A Few of my Favourite Things
by thissuperficialhypocrisy
Summary: A Klaine one-shot for every song in my '25 Most Played' playlist. Currently: In The Water I Am Beautiful - City and Colour ; Blaine's always had trouble with the words "I love you". All it takes is his significant other to fix that problem.
1. Sleepyhead

**Hey hi hello! I'm Kitty, and this is my first step into the wonderful world of Glee fanfiction. Basically, I've written down the songs in my "Top 25 Most Played" playlist on my iPod, and I'm going to attempt to write a Klaine one-shot for each song. Yep! There's a few doubles (as in the same song, except different versions) and I'll be letting you guys vote between two**_**different**_** songs… if anyone does vote, haha. I've noticed that there's a lot of Darren Criss and A Very Potter Sequel songs in here, so you've been warned, and there's basically none of the new Glee songs (my laptop broke before I could put Volume 4 on, and I've only got two Warbler songs. Boo!) A few things before I begin – 1) One-shots will not relate to each other, unless it's stated. 2) Their relationship status will differ as well. In some they could be in an established relationship (like in this one), in others they could be rekindling an old flame and in another they could be angsting over their supposed unrequited love. 3) They will vary in length, whether it's a few hundred or a few thousand words, I won't know until I'm writing it.**

**And that's pretty much it! I'll end this long authors note now; Favourite, review, alert, etc. Constructive Criticism is welcome, and no flames please. And most importantly, Enjoy!

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**Title:** _Sleepyhead_**  
Rating: ** _T (For one use of the 'F' Word. Dundundun!)_**  
Summary: **_Blaine's favourite things include cuddling, sleeping in and watching Kurt sleep - and yes, he is aware of how creepy that sounds, thank you very much._

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A Few of my Favourite Things

== x ==

**i.**

== x ==

_And you said - it was like fire around the brim;_

_Burning solid, burning thin, the burning rim._

_Like stars burning holes right through the dark,_

_Flicking fire like saltwater into my eyes._

_You were one inch from the edge of this bed,_

_I dragged you back, a sleepyhead._

_They couldn't think of something to say the day you burst,_

_With all their lions and all their might and all their thirst._

_They crowd your bedroom like some thoughts wearing thin,_

_Against the walls, against your rules, against your skin._

_My beard grew down to the floor and out through the doors,_

_Of your eyes, begonia skies, like a sleepyhead._

{**Sleepyhead** - Passion Pit  
_"A Chunk of Change", 2008_}

== x ==

If there was one thing Blaine loved more than cuddling (with Kurt, preferably), it was sleeping in, especially during the summer. Instead of waking up with dread as he slowly remembered deadlines, destinations and dates, he could stay in bed and think about anything and everything he wanted, as long as they didn't include anything to do with school (he felt his stomach knot up in anticipation at the thought of Dalton). The best thing about sleeping in today? Kurt was with him. Which meant that he could spend the morning watching him sleep (he's aware of how creepy that sounds, thank you very much), or talking with him about the new issue of Vogue –

If he could find him, that is.

With a groan and a rustling of the sheets, Blaine began to do a fairly limited search for his boyfriend. He lifted up the duvet to make sure he hadn't crawled up to the end of the bed - where he was nowhere to be found - before rolling over to the left and letting his head drop down and to the right to see if he had fallen off the edge in the middle of the night as he gazed under the bed - which he hadn't. Sighing, Blaine slid up, using his arms to support his weight and not putting them by his side until his back rested lightly against the headboard of his double bed. The rising sun reflected off almost everything in the room, due to the colour scheme being restricted to white furniture and decorations _only_, and he automatically squinted as he gazed around the room. After what felt like an eternity, he found Kurt by the window, russet hair glowing in the sunlight and thin, satin green over-sized pyjamas loosely adorning his body as he stared out at the landscape before him. Blaine couldn't help the smile that spread slowly across his face.

"Hey beautiful," he called out softly, watching as the younger teen jumped in recognition of Blaine's unsuspecting voice. Kurt held a pale hand over his chest as the speed of his heart increased and a blush painted itself over his cheeks, turning from his spot at the window to stare at the person who intruded on his thoughts.

"You scared me." He answered, glaring mockingly at the raven-haired boy who was still squinting against the light.

Blaine grinned at his boyfriend trying to look menacing. _Two can play at that game_, he thought, glaring back and crossing his arms in a childish manner. "Well, that's for scaring me when I woke up by myself."

Kurt rolled his eyes and gave a small smile. "Sorry. I couldn't sleep." He replied, tone filled with exhaustion as he ran a hand through his bed head. The raven haired boy across the room gave a small frown, looking at his other half before patting and area of the bed lightly. Kurt got the message almost immediately and moved from the large windowsill where he was resting to perch on the edge of the bed. Blaine slowly crawled behind him, resting his hands lightly on the younger Warbler's shoulders and began whispering in his ear.

"Why couldn't you sleep?" he questioned, beginning to pepper small kisses along Kurt's neck while he waited for an answer. Kurt gulped, his face turning an 'attractive' shade of red as he suddenly noticed small things - like how Blaine was shirtless and was kissing him in the sensitive spot behind his ear and was slowly nipping his earlobe and,_ fuck_, if he didn't stop grazing his neck with his teeth then he was going to stop breathing and promptly _die_ – before shaking his head as he began to try to answer Blaine's question.

"Well I, uh," _bite_ "woke up a few hours ago" _nip_ "and my eyes were sore when I closed them" _smooch_ "so I decided to look out the window until you, uhm, "_ lick_ "woke up," a _scratch_ and an involuntary groan from the receiver "and I swear, Blaine Michael Anderson, if you do not stop what you are doing _right now_ I will not be held responsible for my actions."

Blaine stopped and rested his forehead against Kurt's forehead, a smile breaking out across his face as his eyelashes fluttered softly against his temple.

"What, you mean this?" he teased, beginning to kiss down Kurt's jaw, purposefully kissing the edge of his mouth before stopping and moving his head so he could look Kurt in the eye. Blaine gave a smug smile as his companion mumbled "tease", looking down at the floor in an attempt to ignore him. As he moved to sit back up, he felt a hand on his shoulder and another on his cheek, and before he knew it his lips were promptly occupied. Blaine smiled into the unexpected, yet sweet kiss as he broke it off, giving Kurt another peck on the lips before moving to his original position and quickly wrapping his arms around the younger teen's shoulders.

"What are you doing?" Kurt questioned, beginning to tilt his head to look at his boyfriend before he felt himself being pulled back. Panicking, he squealed and began to violently kick his legs in the air, only stopping when he felt his back hit the Blaine's bare torso, which began to rumble loudly with laughter. Kurt huffed in mock annoyance and crossed his arms as his back hit the bed's surface and a familiar face loomed over him.

"I hate you." He pouted, glaring as the lead soloist chuckled and rolled his eyes, beginning to move towards the top of the bed.

"I know. That's exactly why you're in my bedroom, sporting flimsy green satin pyjamas while the one you loathe wears only an old pair of sweats, and you're allowing said loathed one to wrestle you to the bed in an attempt to let you get more sleep, and _I_, for one, would say he's winning. Now, come on – get under the covers and move on up here."

Kurt grumbled but did as Blaine said, waiting until he was looking at his boyfriend before snuggling deeper into the covers and giving a small smile, letting a comfortable silence to establish itself when he chose to speak again. "Is this how you plan on seducing me in the future, Mr. Anderson?"

He watched as Blaine threw his head back in laughter, eyes shining as he returned his gaze to the object of his affections. "If I wanted to seduce you, Mr. Hummel, then we would already be doing the deed," (the comment creating another infamous blush) "but is this working for you?"

The teen gave a small nod, a yawn suddenly appearing and making the two of them yawn at the same time.

"Well, I think you should get some well-needed sleep." Blaine told him, smiling at how adorable Kurt was currently looking. They both rested their heads on their respective pillows, one pair of eyes beginning to drop closed and another watching curiously. It was silent for a few minutes before a muffled voice broke the silence.

"Kiss me," Kurt whispered quietly as fatigue began to plague him. Blaine smiled, leaning forward to rub their noses together in an Eskimo kiss before kissing the tip of the younger Warbler's nose, a smile breaking across his face as his boyfriend's grumbling turned into mumbling, and it only took a few minutes for the mumbling to shift into light snoring.

For the next few hours, Blaine watched Kurt sleep peacefully (which was creepy, he knew that, but he couldn't help himself), and the entire time he was thinking about how much _stronger_ the other boy was. The iPhone on the Kurt's side table vibrated every once in a while, signifying a text from one of his friends two hours away, and suddenly Blaine was thinking about Kurt's situation back in McKinley when the two of them first met. He was so strong - courageous, even – when it came to dealing with Karofsky and the other neanderthals, and when he began to fight back people were too shocked at his lightning quick responses to see how much the original insult was hurting him, and even though they attempted to fight back with their stupid comebacks and remarks, he _still_ managed to beat them. Even though Kurt denied it, Blaine knew that he still thought about the bullying on a daily basis - that every time he was left alone with his thoughts, he began remembering the things he yearned to forget the most, to the point where he was consumed with painful memories. And that was what _he_ was there for – to make him forget, even if it's just for a while, because during that time the past doesn't matter; only the future is important.

There was a knock at the door, causing Blaine to snap out of his reverie and Kurt to roll over so he was resting on his back. Blaine heard the door creak open, and he didn't turn to meet the gaze of the person waiting until he was sure Kurt was still asleep. He rolled over to the left and was met with a pair of bright hazel eyes and curly brunette hair framing a lightly tanned, heart-shaped face.

"Morning Mom," he greeted with a toothy grin, watching as she gave a small smile in return before shifting her gaze to where an unconscious Kurt lay peacefully. She shook her head, leaning her head against the door frame and crossing her arms over her chest, taking a look at her surroundings.

"Are you sure you don't want to get your room painted?" she enquired, eyebrows crumpling together and a small frown making its way on her face. Blaine rolled his eyes, about to launch into an explanation before she interrupted. "Yes, I know, it's pure and cleansing and whatnot. You've told me that a hundred times. You're just like your father in that way… Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that breakfast's ready when you are." A smile passed her features as she turned to walk out the room, her hand resting lightly on the silver doorknob as her wedding ring glistened in the light before she spoke again. "By the way, you know it's weird watching someone sleep, right?"

Blaine rolled his eyes again, nodding in a daze as she closed the door, answering with a simple 'yes' before turning back over to Kurt. He pursed his lips as his stomach rumbled impatiently, and the dilemma of getting food and waking Kurt from his sleep made itself known.

_Eh, the food can wait_, he thought, returning to stare at the sleeping figure beside him. Blaine noted how peaceful he looked as he slept – his normally perfect hair was tousled and sticking up in odd directions; his eyelids resting lightly during his slumber; his eyelashes brushed lightly over the fading bruises under his eyes; nostrils flaring softly when he breathed through his nose; his parted lips, the colour of pink rose petals (_how romantic_, he mused lightly at his description) wavered lightly when he took small breaths –

"Your mother's right, you know – it is kinda creepy watching someone sleep."

Blaine jumped in shock, as he was too busy staring at Kurt's mouth to notice that one of Kurt's glasz eyes was open and watching him in amusement, lips spread in a smile and hands resting behind his head. Blaine huffed and sat up, rubbing his eyes and glancing at Kurt.

He didn't care that he got caught in the act, because not only did he love cuddling with Kurt and being able to sleep in, he loved that his boyfriend was beautiful on the inside and outside, and that he could watch him sleep and not feel as if he was intruding on something. He smiled back, leaving a light kiss on Kurt's forehead before getting out of bed, happy with the way he spent the past few hours pondering and watching his own sleeping beauty.

(And he really _is_ aware of how creepy that sounds, thank you very much.)

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**I think that is the cheesiest thing I have ever written. It was also a lot longer than I planned it to be, but I couldn't stop! Thanks for reading!**

**Kitty  
xzx**

**Next: **_Those Voices_ _– A Very Potter Sequel._


	2. Those Voices

**Thanks for the reviews, favourites and alerts! I'm shocked at the response, I didn't think I would get so many people reading that one-shot, but there we go. Apologies for the delay.**

**This was originally a "Five Times/One Time" one-shot I was writing called "I've Seen You Before, Right?" (catchy. I know. *rolls eyes*), but I saw this song and thought it was perfect for this. I'm not sure if what Blaine's saying in the first part is the correct dialogue from the scene, but I tried to get it as accurate as possible. c:**

**Okay, it's 5am. I'm kinda tired, but I wanted to get this out to you all ASAP. Enjoy!

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**Title:**Those Voices

**Rating:**T (for one use of a word beginning with 'S'. I'm not taking any chances xD)

**Summary:**The three times Kurt's recognised Blaine, and the one time he found out why.

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A Few of my Favourite Things

== x ==

**ii.**

== x ==

_I know you;  
__ I've seen you in a dream,  
An old familiar scene, from somewhere.  
You know me;  
There's glowing in your eyes,  
I know and recognize, from somewhere._

_Those voices,  
Singing out;  
"La, la, la, la, la..."_

{**Those Voices** – A Very Potter Sequel  
_"A Very Starkid Album", 2010_}

== x ==

_The three times Kurt's recognised Blaine…_

== x ==

i.

"Prejudice is just ignorance, Kurt. And you have a chance right now to teach him. Confront him; call him out. I ran. I let them chase me away, and I really, _really_ regret it. You have a chance to make a difference."

Kurt took a deep breath in an attempt to stop the tears from flowing at the practically flawless speech. He gave a small laugh, taking the latte in his hand and quietly circling the lid before looking up at the (rather gorgeous) curly-haired, hazel-eyed raven-haired teen sitting calmly across from him.

"I'm sorry, I'm acting stupid." He spoke quietly, voice thick with tears, before giving another throaty laugh.

A sad smile broke out across the older boys face as he leant towards the distraught teen. "There's nothing to be sorry for." He whispers quietly, giving a comforting smile and staring straight into his eyes. "When I was in your situation, I would have _killed_ to have someone there to talk to."

Kurt smiled and returned his gaze to his drink, a light blush beginning to bloom across his cheeks. He still found it weird that there was someone who had gone through the same thing he was going through – that someone out there actually understands. That someone, who had decided to sit back into his original position and take out his phone, had made it out alive.

It gave him courage.

Suddenly, he heard an object slide across the table towards him. Looking up in alarm, Kurt saw the phone _he_ was holding just seconds ago at the edge of the table. A confused look appeared on his face as he glanced across the table, noticing a grin forming on the Warbler's face as he tilted his head towards the phone.

"Put your number in. Just so you have someone to talk to if, you know, something happens, or if you just want to chat. I'll always be at the other end, so you don't need to worry about me ignoring you or something. And if you allow me, I'll put my number in yours, so you know that it's not some random person asking how your day was."

_Always the gentleman_, he thought, looking between the phone and said Warbler before shrugging and putting his number and name into his contacts. After he was done, he slid both phones to the other side of the table and watched as a grin spread across the Warbler's face as he picked up both phones.

Kurt waited patiently for the other boy to finish adding his details, spending his time glancing around at his surroundings. _It must be the school's cafeteria_, he thought as his gaze flitted around his current surroundings. The walls were made of wood (a dark mahogany, to be exact) and shimmered in the sunlight that streamed through large wooden windows. The sepia coloured tables scattered around the hall were round in shape, the chairs were of the same colour and cushions a crimson red.

He heard an object scratch its way towards him and felt his phone gently nudge his hand. Immediately he picked it up and began looking through his contacts for an unfamiliar name.

_Artie Abrams... Blaine Anderson..._

He paused, staring at the last name. Why did that sound so familiar? Kurt pursed his lips and looked at 'Blaine' curiously, blurting out the question before he even had time to reconsider what he was about to do.

"Have I met you before?"

He watched as a look of confusion passed over his features and he glanced at his phone, looking at what must have been Kurt's contact details.

"I don't think so," he began softly, glancing between the screen of his phone and the younger boy sitting across from him, "but I'm getting the same feeling too. Although, if I did know you, I would have recognised you, right?"

Kurt nodded his head and began to chew absentmindedly at his bottom lip. He gave a brief glance at his watch to check the time. 2:15pm. _Wait a second..._

"Shit!"

"What is it?" Blaine answered immediately, voice laced with concern. Kurt stood up quickly, failing to hide a smile at his 'friend's' behaviour.

"Oh, uh, it's nothing. I just realised the time, and it takes two hours to drive from Westerville to Lima. My dad's going to kill me." He groaned, moving away from the table and beginning his journey towards the cafeteria doors. "It was nice meeting you, Blaine." He gave a small smile, turning around to leave as he allowed to smile to fall off his face.

"Wait, I'll walk you to your car!" The older teen blurt out, standing up suddenly and speed walking to stand beside the taller of the two. Kurt gave a second smile as they made their way out of the building. The journey was silent, the two teens sneaking supposedly inconspicuous glances at every opportunity, and far too soon for Kurt's liking, they had reached his Navigator. He gave a long sigh, turning back to Blaine. The older boy raised his hand, Kurt reciprocating the movement, and their hands met halfway in a handshake.

"It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Kurt Hummel."

He gave a smile, enjoying the way his name sounded when _he_ said it. "The pleasure's all mine, Blaine Anderson."

Blaine grinned, quickly ruffling Kurt's hair before walking towards Dalton. Kurt grimaced, slowly getting into his car before yelling back "I would do that to you, but there's so much product in your hair it would be impossible to 'ruin'."

He quickly turned back around, giving another one of those infamous grin-and-wave gestures before spinning around to Dalton. Kurt rolled his eyes, moving to close the door before asking another question.

"And I've definitely never met you before?"

Blaine turned around for a second time, shrugging and smiling. "I don't think so. See you around, Hummel!"

Kurt slammed the Navigator's door shut, hands gripping the steering wheel as he watched his new friend-slash-crush strut through the front doors of Dalton.

"I hope so, Anderson."

ii.

It was midday when Kurt and Blaine left the stairwell in McKinley to eat lunch in some "rather fancy" restaurant (as Blaine described it) just outside of Lima. Kurt eyed the decorations appreciatively – with the theme being Italian, stone-washed walls met his gaze and random Italian artifacts had been scattered around the place. The tables were covered with cream and green chequered cloths, a single red candle placed in the centre and a tasteful red dahlia, albeit plastic, sat beside it in a marble vase. He gave a small nod of approval before looking at the menu, realising that he really wasn't hungry. His eyebrows crumpled together as the feeling of guilt began to swell in the pit of his stomach - the chance of him eating anything substantial after what happened over the past few days was _very_ thin, and Blaine took the time to drive him over here -

"So, have you decided on what you want?"

Kurt looked up at the source of the voice, and was met with an indulgent pair of Hazel eyes. He bit his lip, lightly shaking his head and putting down the menu. "I'm not hungry."

Blaine nodded in understanding, taking a look back at the menu and slouching down in his seat as he contemplated on what he was going to order. "How undapper." Kurt mumbled, knowing Blaine heard it when he looked over at the countertenor and gave a small smile before looking again at the menu. He noticed a waitress came over and watched as Blaine sat up in his seat, smiling at said waitress, and they both noticed how stunningly obvious it was that she would be _anywhere_ other than here. Her auburn hair was thrown back in a sloppy ponytail, and she was chewing her gum like a cow would chew cud, lips smacking together in a very unappealing way. An unpleasant scowl was pasted onto her face as she prepared to take their orders.

"So, what will you have?" she started with a sigh, raising her pen to the notepad she was holding before looking at Blaine. He gave her a charming smile, looking at the menu before confirming his order of a chicken and bacon carbonara and a coke. She turned away, shifting her position so she could take the next order, looking Kurt in the eyes.

Kurt noticed that almost everything about her changed in practically two seconds – gone were the aggravated facial expressions, constant gum chewing and a standing position that screamed she was bored, replaced with 'alluring' eyes, 'coy' smiles and a standing position that told Kurt that she was definitely 'interested'.

_Oh_.

"What will it be for you?" she asked in what was probably supposed to be a seductive tone (although it sounded rather nauseating, if he was being honest). He took a look back down at the menu to avoid her gaze, which was beginning to irritate him, and managed to catch the amused smile on Blaine's face. Kurt rolled his eyes before looking back at the waitress, plastering a smile on his face. "Oh, I'm not – "

"He'll take a grilled chicken salad with no dressing and a diet coke."

Kurt turned to stare wide-eyed at Blaine, noting the deadpan tone his voice took on when speaking. He was busy having a mini glare-off with the retreating waitress when he began kicking Blaine under the table.

"Oww!" he exclaimed, rubbing his shin with his left hand and wincing. "What did you do that for!"

"What did _I_ do that for? No, what did _you_ do _that_ for!" Kurt exclaimed, glancing at the waitress who was now gossiping with the co-worker standing by the doors and noticing how she pointed towards him and giggled.

"Well, I was ordering your meal for you – don't give me that look, you need to eat something after the incident with Karofsky," Kurt involuntarily winced at the name, "and I was also letting you avoid the embarrassing and incredibly cliché 'are you sure you don't want _anything_' line." Blaine retorted before staring at his hands, suddenly looking incredibly interested at his nails. Kurt huffed and crossed his arms, noticing the giggles coming from the other end of the restaurant increasing in pitch and volume.

For the next ten minutes, only a few words were shared between the pair. It took a while for Kurt's reaction to the waitress to click with Blaine, and as soon as he realised, he really did begin to pity the teen. "You've never had this happen to you before." Blaine stated, looking up to meet Kurt's stare. A blush spread across the younger boy's porcelain cheeks, and Blaine chuckled.

"And this," he nodded towards the waitress, "has happened to you?" Kurt pointed out while arching one eyebrow.

"You get used to it." His voice was laced with sarcasm as he shrugged.

Rolling his eyes, Kurt watched as their food came closer towards the table, teetering lightly on a tray being carried by the waitress. After placing the food in front of the pair, the waitress turned to the teen and, in an attempt to 'woo' him, asked in a very husky voice, "Anything _else _you want?"

Kurt gulped, glancing towards Blaine before turning back to the waitress and putting on a dazzling smile. "No, thank you."

There was suddenly a shrill laugh, and the waitress threw her head back and placed a (very cheap, he noted) manicured hand on his right shoulder at the 'hilarious' reply. "Well, if you need anything, just call me over." She finished with a wink, and began half walking, half sprinting towards her co-worker. Kurt groaned, and when hearing Blaine give a lighthearted laugh at the situation, began to glare.

"Yes. This is absolutely hilarious. I can totally see how you can laugh at my current predicament." Kurt stated sarcastically, picking up a fork to start eating some of his salad with the realisation that he hadn't eaten anything yet.

"I'm glad you understand how amusing this is." Blaine replied, sending Kurt a wink before picking up his own eating utensil. There was a small silence as the pair took bites of their meals and stole quick glances at each other before the lead soloist began speaking again. "Do you want to talk about what happened?"

There was a frown on Kurt's face now as he stabbed absentmindedly at his salad. "Not particularly, no."

Blaine sighed, putting down his fork and running a hand through his gelled hair in what Kurt thought was irritation. "I know I shouldn't be pushing this, but keeping what you're feeling inside you all the time isn't good for you, or for anyone else. I'm just saying that I'm here, right now, ready to listen. And I think that's what you need right now."

Another stab. "Maybe later on when we're not eating," Kurt mumbled as he took a bite, only looking up after he had swallowed. "Can it wait 'till then?"

The Warbler gave a smile and nodded, picking up his fork again and taking a large bite of his meal. It was only a few bites and gulps later when Blaine decided to speak next.

"Lovely weather today, isn't it?" he asked nonchalantly, suppressing a smile at the expression that made itself known on russet-haired teen's face.

"Are we _really_ going there?" Kurt deadpanned, one of his perfectly sculpted eyebrows arching in mock disbelief as he stared at his counterpart with amused curiosity.

Blaine shrugged lightly, draining the last of his coke before he replied. "Well, you made it obvious that you wanted a 'dramatic' topic change..."

As the two teens looked at each other, they both couldn't help but laugh at the look on the others face. They began discussing a range of topics - from Kurt's obsession with bowties ("Hey, don't diss them - believe it or not, bowties _are_ cool." "Yeah, of course they are... for English professors.") to a heated debate on Katy Perry and Lady Gaga ("She arrived in an egg. An egg!" "I don't know why you're 'complaining'. Your woman's running around with bras that shoot whipped cream and fireworks.") - and before they knew it, the waitress from before was taking away their dishes and placing the receipt on the table. Kurt frowned as he looked at her, his thoughts becoming more pronounced as the time went by.

_Is it really that necessary to bend over _that_ low to place a receipt on a table? And at that angle? If I wanted that view, I would have requested it myself. She's taking a long time to stand up straight, the temptation to 'accidentally' smash my foot on her toe is almost too much. Hold on... Oh my Gaga, she's talking to me. What do I say? Why is she looking at me like that? Has she realised that I swing the other - okay, maybe not. Just smile and nod, smile and hope she notices... finally! She's away! Maybe she got the hint? Nope, still grinning and winking in my direction as she... struts? _Really_? That co-worker is a bad influence on her, and I swear to Gucci, if she doesn't stop - _

"I'm guessing this is for you."

Kurt immediately snapped out of his thoughts and glanced towards the source of the voice, noticing how a coy smile had made its way onto his face as he held out the receipt. The countertenor leant forward slightly to see what exactly his mentor was finding so amusing, and when he noticed the name and number scribbled under the mechanically printed "have a nice day!" his forehead hit the table's surface with a cushioned thud.

Blaine smiled, looking back at the receipt. "_'I know a way to make it better. Call me!_' and look - a semi-colon and a right parenthesis before the number. Wow, how nice of her..."

"I hate you." was Kurt's muffled response. The older teen gave a small laugh as he smiled affectionately at his flustered friend, leaning over to whisper in his ear. "Come on, I know a way to make it better."

As Blaine counted up the amount that needed to be paid, much to Kurt's chagrin (he wasn't allowed to pay), the two of them sauntered their way towards the till with varying facial expressions - Kurt's one of curiosity and Blaine's filled with amusement. The waitress gave a hundred watt grin at the pair (although her eyes stayed on a certain russet haired boy for the duration of the time), and as her hand went to grasp the receipt, Blaine's voice ripped through the silence.

"Thank you for your services..." he glanced at the name scrawled on the receipt, "Lara... but I think that I'll be the one making his day better." The grin slipped off her face, and as Blaine winked and grabbed a blushing Kurt's hand (the two of them ignoring the sparks they felt as their hands made contact), a scowl appeared instead. As they walked through the door and into the midday sunshine, a frown made its way onto the face of the taller of the pair. The soloist glanced at his supposed competition and noticed his facial expression, the grin dissolving into a frown. "I took it too far, didn't I? I'm sorry, I didn't mean - "

Kurt interrupted. "No, don't apologise for that. It was hilarious. But she looked kind of..."

Blaine sighed, squeezing his friends hand. "She had to find out anyway. It probably would have been worse if we left and didn't let her realise that you weren't interested in her... wares."

After pondering over what was said, Kurt responded with a nod, his eyes trained on their intertwined fingers and a smirk appearing on his face at how familiar the gesture felt.

"Ready to go home?"

He returned his gaze to his mentor, humming in agreement and squeezing his hand, noticing how his nerves reacted to the gesture - like he was being electrocuted. A grinning Blaine led a blushing Kurt towards his vehicle - a firetruck red SUV, he noted with amusement - opening and closing the door for the teen before sliding in behind the wheel. As he went to start the car's ignition, a soft voice spoke amongst the silence.

"I was scared. Terrified, even. I see what he does to people like us - people who are openly gay and comfortable in our own skin... who feel as if they don't need to hide in a fabricated shell of who they truly are to feel accepted by their peers - and I can't have that happen to someone who isn't me. You're too important to me. I knew that if I just stood there and let him do what he... had to do, then he would scare you off, just like he's done to everyone else who's tried to help me, and I panicked. I realised that if you left me, then there would be no one else willing to stick around. So I thought, 'Courage', and I went for it."

Kurt paused, gulping down air to help him calm down before starting again.

"It hit me that I had nothing else to lose - that was what scared me the most, you know. You bring me so much hope, and you give me so much strength... if you ran away screaming, I don't think I would be able to live with myself for driving another person away. If I lost you, then I lost hope. And hope is what I need right now; what I need to get through the slushies, the shoves and the dumpster dives."

He moved his gaze from his clenched fists to his crushes probing hazel eyes.

"I think I need you more than I ever anticipated."

Glancing away, he automatically pursed his lips, realising that he had said too much. As he went to rub his hand against the tip of his nose, a calloused hand reached out to hold it. Kurt looked up in surprise, glassy eyes taking in the comforting smile that spread easily across Blaine's face, returning it with a half-hearted smirk.

The car fell into a comfortable silence, neither of the pair wanting to speak as they both blinked back the tears that were threatening to cascade down their cheeks. A sigh emitted from the raven-haired teens lips as he turned on the ignition, making sure his hand was still gripping onto Kurt's, and as they returned to the highway leading back to Lima, Blaine spoke words he could have sworn had been spoken before.

"You're amazing. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

iii.

Kurt was pretty sure he wasn't imagining anymore.

Everytime he was near Blaine, he began to notice a lot of things - like how when their skin makes contact it feels like electricity is coursing through his veins, or when he hears how Blaine found out about 'courage'; it was someone passing on their own advice in an effort to help him, which also seems familiar. But most of all, he noticed how familiar his eyes looked in the sunlight; the green becoming more pronounced, brown swirling in all shapes and sizes to create a pattern that artists would kill to perfect.

He has a feeling that he's going crazy, but he can't deny that he has a hunch.

It's an early Friday morning when Kurt and Blaine decide to wonder around Westerville - school's out for winter break, and as Kurt's family aren't able to pick him up until later on in the afternoon, Blaine suggested that they go for a walk after they buy their morning coffees to help pass the time. The younger Warbler hesitates, knowing that it takes more than half an hour to pack his wardrobe and various moisturising products (brands and colours take a lot of work to sort out, he'll have you know) but after Blaine promises to help him, and reluctantly offers to buy him coffee for a week when they get back, Kurt couldn't refuse such a tantalising offer. After ordering each others coffee orders under the aliases of Harry Potter characters for their own amusement, they ended up walking into the local park, where they discussed their plans for Christmas.

"Well, it's the first Hudson-Hummel Christmas, so it'll be chaotic trying to fit in everyone's traditions, but it should be good - I won't have to cook all the food this year. What about you?"

Blaine paused, pursing his lips as he considered the possibilities. "It'll probably be the usual - spend the morning with mom and dad, hiding in my room watching holiday films and only leaving to eat Christmas Dinner and answer calls from relatives."

Kurt nodded, taking a sip from his lukewarm non-fat mocha as he kicked at some stray leaves. Suddenly there was a gasp from beside him, causing the countertenor to turn to him in fright. Instead of seeing a frightened expression on his mentors face, he was greeted with a look of excitement and anticipation. Crossing his arms, Kurt twisted his head to look at where Blaine was gazing and rolled his eyes.

"You want to go there, right?" he questioned, watching as the pouting soloist swiveled to face him.

"If you don't mind..."

With another roll of his eyes and a hand pointing his friend in the right direction, Kurt watched as his friend bounded towards the kids play park and slowly trailed behind him. He noticed how the raven-haired teen skipped past the slides and the sandpit and went straight towards the swings, plonking himself down into one of the two empty seats and lightly swinging himself too and fro with the balls of his feet.

Sighing, Kurt discarded his now empty coffee cup and made his way towards the spare swing. He sat down, looking around his surroundings and trying to shake off that damn feeling of familiarity again. He shook his head. He must be going crazy...

He began to swing himself backwards and forwards lightly, ignoring the squeaks the chain made with every movement. Humming a small tune under his breath, he turned to look at Blaine, only to find out that his friend was already gazing at him.

The teen arched an eyebrow, looking back towards the asphalt surface when the soloist gave a small smirk. The silence was comfortable, the two of them swinging side by side, immersed in their own thoughts. Suddenly Blaine stopped swinging and stood up, walking forward a few steps before turning around to gaze at his partner. A grin appeared on his face as he took in the scene in front of him - the frame of the swings was a deep red, slowly chipping away from the metal and the swing itself was a fading black. The colours of the swings clashed with Kurt in general, his cream peacoat and beige knitted scarf made his porcelain skin look almost void of colour, aside from his rouging cheeks as a side effect from the cold, and his glasz eyes shone brightly in the morning light. Blaine made his way towards the occupied swing, the squeaking stopping as Kurt noticed the other boy crouch down in front of him to stare into his eyes, hands resting on his knees. Squirming under his gaze, Kurt began to gnaw at his lip, waiting for Blaine to speak.

"You look like a child." The older Warbler gave a toothy grin as he tapped the countertenor's nose, noticing how his face flushed in response and an adorable scowl made its way onto his face.

"Says you, Mr. 'I-squeal-when-I-see-a-set-of-swings'." Kurt huffed, letting go of the chains to cross his arms. Blaine rolled his eyes. "They were my favourite things in the park, thank you very much. I don't get a lot of opportunities to indulge in my secret obsession."

Now it was Kurt's turn to roll his eyes as he glanced at his watch. A sigh escaped from his lips as he realised the time. "Come on, we better go." Blaine stood up, reaching out a gloved hand to his counterpart, which said counterpart accepted. They didn't let go as they made their way out of the park, only glancing behind them when it was a far distance away. Kurt grimaced as he felt the same feeling arise.

"Hey, Blaine..." he started, noticing how his friend paused to look at him. "I know this may sound stupid, but do you ever get the feeling that almost everything we do, almost everything we talk about, sounds... familiar in some way?"

Blaine's eyebrows furrowed as he reminisced some of their actions in the past month. "Sometimes," he mumbled, "but it's probably nothing." he gave a shrug as he turned back to Kurt and smiled. "Who knows?"

He gave a smile back, shaking his head at his own stupidity. Of course it was nothing, he was just over thinking it like always. _I'm just imagining it_, he thought, hoping it would clarify and answer the lingering questions lurking around his mind, _I'm just imagining it._

But he did have a hunch.

== x ==

…_And the one time he figured out why._

== x ==

i.

Over the next few months, Kurt thought that his friendship could never be tested to the extremes it had already faced - between the Warbler's infamous "GAP Attack" and the somewhat disastrous "Rachel Berry's House Party Train Wreck Extravaganza", the duo had survived and were still going strong.

As friends, that is.

Since that day in December, the familiar feelings he used to get almost daily faded away until they became literally non-existant. Either his 'Familiar Feeling' radar had broken and there was no way to repair it or he really had been imagining everything, but he had a feeling that he had made it all up in his head... like always.

It was now March - the 20th, to be exact - and that only meant one thing; Kurt Hummel's birthday. Normally on a Sunday he would be making his way towards Dalton, but all the residents in the Hudson-Hummel household insisted that Kurt stays to celebrate - and how could he say no?

The families went through their own birthday traditions and decided to mash them up - for the Hudson's, it involved Carole cooking a vast meal that could literally feed the Warbler's in their entirety, so that was easily done. Shortly after everyone had eaten their meals (and numerous helpings, if you were one Finn Hudson) it was time for the Hummel's tradition.

Watching childhood videos.

Kurt groaned as his father began to play multiple videos of a miniature version of himself growing up, including various clips of him watching his mom cook when he was three, getting ready for his first day of playschool when he was four and even one of him dancing around the living room in his pyjamas on Christmas Eve when he was six. When his father went to put on the fifth video, it looked as though the teen had accidentally fallen into a stall of tomatoes, and Finn was almost crying with laughter. Mumbling something about needing a drink, Kurt managed to escape into the kitchen. leaving his newly formed family to watch even more embarrassing shots of him doing childish things.

He was sitting in the kitchen, calmly drinking a glass of diluted orange juice, when he heard the normal exclamations of "He's so cute!"

_Here they go again,_ he thought sarcastically, getting up to fill up his glass with water. As he reached the sink, he heard Carole ask his dad something;

"Doesn't he look familiar?"

There was a cough as his father turned to look at his wife. "Who are you talking about?"

A small sigh. "You know, the one on the swings that Kurt's about to talk too."

At this comment, Kurt's ears perked up as he filled his glass.

"You know what? He kind of does..."

A loud gasp was heard as Finn began to speak. "Wait! Isn't that - "

Before Finn could finish his sentence, an young Kurt began to speak, his voice muffled slightly due to the camera's low quality. Meanwhile, the real Kurt left his glass in the sink and began to make his way slowly towards the living room.

"What are you doing by yourself?" he seemingly questioned no one. There was a long pause as the only sounds heard were kids running around and screaming, then another voice spoke up.

"Nothing, I guess." The voice was laced with shyness as he mumbled quietly. There was a small huff and a squeak rang out before the younger Kurt spoke again.

"Well, you shouldn't be alone, even if you aren't doing _anything_." he spoke with a boistrous tone, the silence only lasting a few seconds before it was broken by the same voice. "I'm Kurt. Kurt Hummel."

As the older Kurt walked into the room, the second voice replied with an answer that no one was expecting.

"Blaine. Blaine Anderson."

Kurt could have sworn he felt his jaw hit the floor and everyone witnessing the event gasp as they watched an eight year old Kurt shake hands with an eight year old Blaine, the setting being a set of swings in the local park at Westerville. His breathing had become laboured as he watched the exchange play out in front of him, the tips of his fingers tingling as the duo on tape released each other's hands and his legs resembled jelly as they both simultaneously swung too and fro on the spot. Feeling faint, he sat down on the sofa beside his dad and began to criticise what was happening.

"So, why are you here?" he questioned, head tilted towards the younger Blaine. The other boy sighed, raven hair curls bouncing as he hung his head down and stared at his plain, v-neck navy shirt, light denim jeans and scuffed black trainers, hands tightening around the cables at either side of the swing. "Because my mom made me go out."

Mini Kurt sighed in exasperation. "No, I mean, why _here_. No one goes on the swings."

"Exactly," Blaine replied, "No one goes here. No one can bother me." He began swinging harder and faster. The two Kurts watched his movements, wondering what he was doing.

"Well, that didn't work - I'm here now." There was another pause as the swings began to squeak in unison. "If you think I'm going to leave you alone if you keep ignoring me then you're mistaken." Another silence filled with squeaks and screams, and the Kurt on screen pouted in annoyance. "Why do you want no one to bother you?"

The squeaking suddenly stopped, Blaine's feet planted firmly on the ground and Kurt copied the action. He blinked at the boy beside him, waiting patiently for an answer. There was a sigh before Blaine started speaking again.

"In school, all the boys bother me. They call me names, they push me around, trip me over on purpose. Everyone laughs at me, and when I tell Miss. Marshall she pats me on the head and tells me that they're not being serious, but they are! I know when they're joking, because I see them joking with each other all the time, but when they say stuff to me, it's always really mean and it makes me run into the toilets and cry."

By this point, tears began to pool up in his hazel eyes, he was sniffing obnoxiously and the grip on the chords tightened until his fists were beginning to violently shake. The two Kurts frowned, the one on the screen getting up from his swing and kneeling before Blaine, who looked up in curiosity. Kurt smiled, beginning to wipe away the tears away from the boy's face as he spoke.

"I know how it feels. That happens to me too, but you know what my mommy says?" Blaine shook his head and Kurt leaned forward. "Courage. That's all you need. Tell them to stop being so mean, and if they don't listen, then tell them what you think."

Hazel eyes blinked up at him in awe. "R-really?"

Kurt pursed his lips as he stood up. "Well, that's what _she_ says. I used to do that, but it didn't work, so now I normally just ignore them, but that doesn't work either." He paused, tapping a finger against his mouth before looking back at Blaine. "Anyway, the next time they do something to you, think of 'Courage'!"

Blaine nodded, eyebrows furrowed as he mumbled, "Right... Courage..."

"Exactly!" Kurt yelled, standing up and returning to his swing, causing everyone watching in the living room to laugh. Blaine glanced over at the younger boy, watching him gain momentum with every push he made with his feet.

"Your mom sounds pretty cool." Blaine stated, beginning to try to match Kurt's height, making the modern day Kurt smirk. Kurt on screen nodded enthusiastically. "She's awesome. My mom makes the best brownies in the whole wide world, and she's really _really_ pretty. I help her pick out outfits when she's going out with daddy, and when we go out, she helps me pick mine."

Blaine paused. "Wait, so she helped you pick out what you're wearing today?" Kurt nodded, and the raven-haired boy scrutinised his outfit - plain black trousers and shiny black shoes with navy blue suspenders left to hang loosely, his shirt a dusty blue and a royal blue bowtie fastened under the collar - before answering, scrunching his face up and tilting his head to the side. "What's with the tie thing?"

Kurt stopped swinging, turning towards Blaine with overexaggerated shock. "Hey! Bowties are cool!"

The boy rolled his eyes at the fashion statement, glancing around, His eyes stopped just to the left of the screen and the viewers noticed the smile from his face fall.

"My mom's here." Blaine mumbled, stopping the swing and jumping off. Kurt went to do the same, stumbling during his landing, and stood beside his new friend. They both turned towards each other simultaneously, and as Blaine went to shake Kurt's hand, the latter pulled the former into a hug. Carole squealed in delight as his face coloured a vivacious red.

The pair broke apart, Kurt's infectious grin causing Blaine to smile as the soon-to-be-soloist kissed the younger boy on the cheek, whispering quickly in his ear before walking towards his mom. To Kurt, the words suddenly played in his mind: "_You're amazing. Don't let anyone else tell you otherwise_."

The two waved to each other, silently hoping that they would meet each other again, but as soon as they turned away, they were distracted by their family members.

The Kurt on the screen ran up to a younger looking Burt, who was standing to the right hand side of the camera, squealing in excitement. Burt laughed, ruffling his son's hair affectionately (Kurt grinned when he noticed the grimace on the younger version of himself). "So, did you have fun?"

"I had so much fun, daddy! I managed to meet someone new, and we talked about everything, and it was really good! He was really nice and kind and he's the bestest friend _ever._"

There was an exclamation of surprise and suddenly the video footage began to discover different surroundings. "That's where you went to!" Burt muttered, his face appearing in the video for a few seconds before it ended.

There was silence in the room as everyone took in what they had just watched, everyone still staring at the screen.

"Wow." Finn broke the silence, his mouth slightly agape as he processed the information. Kurt sighed. "Wow indeed."

Everyone turned to stare at Kurt, whose gaze flitted over all three of them. "What?" he asked, realising soon after what everyone wanted to know. "I had no idea that I knew him before. Well, I thought I did, but I thought I was imagining things. Apparently not." Shrugging, he got up to take out the video from the VCR tape player and took a look at the time. Only 4:37pm. He got up and grabbed his satchel, throwing the tape into the bag.

"Hey, what are you doing with that?" Burt asked suddenly, an arm pointing towards the satchel. Kurt grabbed his keys from the hook by the door, looking back at his family who were still sitting on sofas and seats with a breathless grin.

"To reacquainte myself with an old friend."

And with that, Kurt walked out of the house.

* * *

**Not gonna lie, I'm not particularly happy with this one, so constructive criticism would be totally awesome and **_**really**_** appreciated. c:**

**Next: **_To Have a Home - A Very Potter Sequel_


	3. To Have a Home

**There were some people asking about Blaine's reaction to the tape - I'm going to see if I can fit it in this collection, but if I can't, then I'll be writing it up as a separate one-shot. It'll be written no matter what!**

**Have I ever mentioned how awesome this fandom is? No? Well then, this fandom is not awesome, as such (what are you, nuts?) - more like supermegafoxyawesomehot!  
/badumtish.

* * *

**

**Title:** To Have a Home  
**Rating:** K+  
**Summary:** It's Kurt's first day at Dalton Academy, and even though he knows that nothing necessarily bad will happen to him, he finds himself unable to enter the building - until one Blaine Anderson comes along.

* * *

A Few of my Favourite Things  
**iii.**

== x ==

_I used to dream about it,  
__But never schemed or counted,  
__On fantasies or wishes;  
__It breaks a man to see what he misses.  
__For so many nights I'd pray for a better life and a better day,  
__But I never thought that it'd come true -  
__It's finally here and I don't know what to do...  
__And I'm trying not to cry;  
__This is how it must feel,  
__To have a home._

_I've finally made it;  
__I've hoped and I've waited,  
__And for the first time in my life, I don't feel so alone..._

{**To Have A Home** - A Very Potter Sequel  
_"A Very Starkid Album", 2010_}

== x ==

_I'm finally here._

That was the only thought going through Kurt Hummel's head as he stood outside a picturesque castle in Westerville, Ohio, ready for his first day at Dalton Academy for Boys. _I'm here. At a school where a zero tolerance bullying policy exists and is enforced. A school that resembles Hogwarts. A school that contains one Blaine Anderson._

Yet as he mentally prepared himself to actually go into school, he found that he was unable to move from his spot in the car park, and as he took in his surroundings, he realised he had been in this predicament for the past fifteen minutes. He frowned, adjusting his satchel and closing his eyes as he attempted to convince himself to go walk into the building, at least - if he could make almost any outfit work, then surely he could make this work too, right?

_I'm at Dalton, a school with a zero tolerance bullying policy, an uncanny resemblance to a wizarding school and a cute guy. I can do this. I can walk through those doors and get my timetable and get on with life like nothing is wrong - _

There was a bang from behind him, causing him to jump in fright and break his thoughts. Turning around, he saw that it was only a student slamming the door of his charcoal black BMW shut behind him. After resting a hand over his chest and taking a few deep breaths to calm him down, he began preparing himself.

_Okay, Kurt. You've arrived. Your dad and Carole gave up their honeymoon money to send you here, to a school with a zero tolerance bullying policy - _

"Kurt?"

He ignored the voice. _There's no Karofsky's, no football teams - okay, there will be football teams, but these guys won't verbally assault you every time you walk down the hallways, because there is a _zero tolerance bullying policy_; remember that no one can hurt you because of the _Zero. Tolerance. Bullying. Policy_... and because you're friends with the Warbler's lead soloist, but that's an unexpected bonus - _

"Uh, Kurt..."

His eyes snapped open and he began to breathe heavily due to irritation of not being able to enter the _damn school_. He spun around to see who was so desperate to interrupt him when his gaze fell upon a pair of familiar hazel eyes, and his grimace immediately turned into a breathtaking smile.

"Oh, hey Blaine!" the countertenor replied, giving a small wave as he watched his crush somewhat strut towards him from the BMW, Kurt realising that must have been his car.

Blaine smiled, looking at him in confusion. "What are you doing here?" he questioned, finally noticing the uniform that adorned the younger teens body. "Please tell me you're not attempting to spy again. You remember how that turned out last time." Kurt shifted around uncomfortably as he began to explain his situation.

"Well, remember when I told you about Karofsky getting expelled?" The Warbler gave a curt nod, urging for the new student to continue his story, "His parents went to the school board, who went on to revoke the expulsion and ended up giving him a verbal warning instead, so my dad and Carole decided to use the money they put towards their honeymoon to pay for tuition at Dalton. I got accepted in, and here I am." Kurt took a deep breath. "Tada?" he gave some halfhearted jazz hands, noticing the small smile that spread across his friends face. Blaine ran through the explanation through his head, eyes not leaving the porcelain boy's glasz eyes.

"So, that neanderthal has returned to McKinley." he started, still staring at Kurt who nodded slowly in response.

"And your parents have enrolled you here." Another nod.

"Which makes you a new student." The next nod was followed by an infectious grin, and Blaine was unable to stop himself from reciprocating the facial expression.

"A student at Dalton Academy." he clarified, still staring at the now smirking teen.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Well, if you couldn't already tell by the uniform, then I shall confirm what has already been established... yes; I _am_ a new student starting toda - ooft!"

He was cut off by the supposedly calm, collected and pretty-much-perfect Blaine Anderson launching himself onto Kurt's woefully unprepared body, arms circling around the younger teens shoulders as he gave a small laugh. Stumbling backwards a few steps, Kurt managed to release himself from a temporary state of shock and wrapped his arms around the teens waist, smiling into his shoulder. They broke apart after a few minutes, Blaine's hands staying on the taller boy's shoulders and Kurt's lingering on the other's waist as they smiled at each other.

"I'm _so_ happy right now." The soloist confessed, a goofy smile spreading across his face as the new student replied with a simple "me too". It was during that moment when two figures made themselves noticed from behind the doors at the front of the building - one with dark skin and a blinding grin, the other's a honey-brown and sporting a smirk - and began to stalk their way towards the oblivious duo in the car park. With a roll of his eyes, David approached the pair and began to speak. "You know there's a rule around here that states _any_ form of PDA should be kept to a bare minimum, right?"

Blaine grinned, slowly pulling away from Kurt and turning to face the intruders. "Hey Wevid." Wes huffed in mock annoyance, crossing his arms and staring pointedly at the Warbler. "Nice of you to join us, Klaine." he deadpanned with a voice heavily doused in sarcasm, relishing in the blushing he got in return.

The soloist rolled his eyes. "What are you guys doing out here?" he asked curiously.

"Well, we _were_ waiting for you to arrive - like we do every morning, remember? - but I guess you saw your beau (another blush from the countertenor at the comment) and it must have, what's the term? Ah, yes. _Slipped_ your mind." David answered, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively as he finished his sentence, earning himself a light shove from the curly-haired Warbler. "Ready to go in? We can take Kurt to the reception and get him settled in if that's alright with you - "

"Although, we wouldn't want to interrupt any make out sessions you were scheming," Wes intercepted, "or any eye sex you endure along the way, and we won't be doing any impromptu serenades for the new kid - "

"The only thing we ask of you is to warn us if you take a 'wrong turn' into an empty classroom and don't come out for a while. We wouldn't be able to stick around all day and listen to every particle of sexual tension that gets released into the wild." The council member finished off, winking at the dumbfounded duo.

Blaine shook his head lightly, staring with amusement at the tag team before him. "None of those things are going to happen, so yes, you _can_ tag along." Three of them walked forward, only one of them realising that someone was missing, and when he turned around he frowned slightly at the sight.

_Not only are you friends with the Warbler's lead soloist, but you've also made acquaintances with two of the council members. Nothing will go wrong, everything will be amazing and breathtaking and everything you've ever wanted. There's a zero tolerance bullying policy - _

Kurt heard a sigh in front of him, and as he squinted an eye open he saw Blaine standing directly in front of him. Pursing his lips, the teen reluctantly opened his eyes and met the boys gaze.

"You're scared."

It wasn't a question, nor was it a statement - it was a guess, and like always, he was a hundred percent correct. Kurt went to agree, but he realised that he wasn't _completely_ right. There were other feelings he had stored away.

"Well, not scared, as such." there was a pause where the two of them simply stared at the other, Kurt only continuing his rambling on when the Warbler encouraged him. "It's confusing to explain - I'm scared at the prospect of entering a school I've never been too before, if we're not counting the spy incident; I'm excited to meet new people and to have the chance of getting into the Warbler's and compete at sectionals; I'm relieved that I won't have to cower in fear every time someone approaches me from behind, or in any direction; I'm upset at not being with my friends at McKinley and hearing what other Journey songs we'll be covering for future competitions, or what drama's happened when I haven't been around. I'm happy that I'm here, don't get me wrong, It's just... I've dreamed about a school like this all my life - a school where I can be judged for who I am rather than what gender I find sexually appealing - and now I that I'm finally here, I don't know how I should react."

A silence followed the speech as Blaine contemplated on what to say as a response. "So, you're psyching yourself up to go into school?" Kurt nodded and Blaine smirked. "And you're telling yourself repeatedly about the zero tolerance bullying policy in the hope that it will make you feel better, right?"

Kurt blinked at the raven-haired boy, not expecting the last point. "How did you - "

Shaking his head, he looked behind him at a curious Wes and David before returning his gaze to those emotional glasz eyes. "Because I've been in your shoes before - remember that." He took a step backwards, "And I'll help you along the way if you get lost. Remember that too." The soloist stretched his hand out to the dumbfounded countertenor, giving him a small smile. "Ready to go?"

Kurt glanced between Blaine and his outstretched hand, biting at his lower lip before grabbing it. As their hands made contact, the two looked at each other, revelling in the warmth before walking towards the school gates. They met up with Wes and David, the twosome making inappropriate jokes and asking the two of them questions - varying between the names of their first children and if they were going to perform their first duet, confessing their undying love for each other, during nationals (if Kurt got into the Warbler's, Wes made sure to remind them) - but as they walked through the doors and straight to the reception desk, Kurt could only concentrate on how his hand moulded with Blaine's perfectly, and when the receptionist requested the russet-haired teen's name, the Warbler squeezed his hand in reassurance as he paused nervously. He gave her his name with new found confidence, glancing at Blaine from the corner of his eye and squeezing his hand in return, smiling as his crush gave a small grin.

He was pretty sure he could get used to this.

* * *

**Constructive criticism is always welcome x3**

**Next:** _Romance Is... (Acoustic Version) - Lights._


	4. Romance Is

**This is the first one-shot where I've incorporated an argument, so there will be literally no fluff (awk), but there is an angsty!Blaine and a partiallydrunk!Kurt. It took me a while to think of a storyline for this song, but I think I did okay. I hope so, anyway. xD  
It's set in the future - Kurt and Blaine are sharing an Apartment and are just out of Uni/College/Some type of higher education. Yep.**

**

* * *

**

**Title:** Romance Is...  
**Rating:** T (for swearing. Don't you love arguments?)  
**Summary:** "We were invincible; we were unique; we were amazing... but all good things must come to an end."

* * *

A Few of my Favourite Things  
**iv.**

== x ==

_There's no explanation or forewarning underneath,  
All the crimson linings.  
__We approach the streets with a clear conscience;  
__We'll survive.  
__Let it all fall down, let it all fall down..._

_It's one way to afford a horizon, and not to mention;  
__It's one way to say we're abandoned,  
__And we don't belong here at all._

_And romance just is... _

== x ==

What do you do when the one you love is killing you?

Not literally, of course. Figuratively. But they might as well be. At the start, everything was fine - all smiles and glances and laughter - and we felt like nothing could stop us. We weren't romantically involved, per se, but it felt like it. We would ignore the insults thrown at us by condescending idiots, laugh it off like they were just words and continue walking down the street like we could change the world. We would roam the hallways with our heads held high and clutching to each other in a way that had people second guessing our friendship 'status'. We were convinced that nothing could hold us back - no guys to pull us to a stop; no heartache to rip us apart; no flames to leave us scarred. We were everything that everyone wanted... We were invincible; we were unique; we were _amazing_.

But all good things must come to an end.

* * *

It was the note that ticked you off to where he would be - left on the coffee table in the apartment you both shared with a simple "_Gone out, be back soon :) x_" and your face turns red with rage. He promised he would stop doing this to himself, _he promised_, but it seems that since his father's death he's a creature that can't be tamed. You glance at the clock, noticing the time - 9:13pm. He won't be home for another three hours, at least, and after an internal debate with yourself, you think _fuck it_ and run out the door.

The walk is brisk, the winter air slapping your rouging cheeks as blood rushes to the surface in retaliation and anger. The only sounds you can hear are the cars screaming past you, your shoes squeaking in protest at the speed you're walking at and your heart as it beats at what feels like a thousand miles an hour. You ignore the people on the streets, your blurred vision only searching for one place, and as you spot the oh-so-familiar underground nightclub your pace hastens and you're practically sprinting towards the bouncer at the door. You only need to say his name, tone rushed and defeated (yet somewhat enraged) and he allows you in. Mumbling a 'thank you', you slip through the door and you become immediately engulfed in a sea of bodies, booze and body odour, the reminder of why you hate this place oozing from every pore as you storm towards the bar.

Although the lights are dim and there are people everywhere, you still manage to find your target - the porcelain boy you love(d) with all your heart downing drinks like there was no tomorrow as some good-for-nothing blond surfer-type of guy is whispering sweet nothings into his ear. You watch as he throws his head back in laughter, another drink being thrown down his throat and you're unsure if it's the lights causing your vision to become tainted a fading burgundy or the sight before you. Striding purposefully towards the once innocent countertenor, you're prepared to drag him away from this _stupid, idiotic, moronic_ place, but just as you reach your destination you witness the guy's tongue plunging willfully into _his_ mouth and you can feel the bile rising up in your throat at the sight.

That's when your vision turns a vivacious red.

Before you know it, you've grabbed your friend by the arm, grip tightening as he tries to stay put and your palms become slick with sweat, and you're halfway out of the place before he stops you.

"Why are you doing this?" he asks, slightly tipsy and unaware of his surroundings. You resist the urge to shake him, instead moving to grab his shaking hand. He removes it, opting to run it over his face, which is all pouting lips and flushed cheeks and glassy eyes and you wonder _what the hell has he done to himself?_

You're trying to talk him into leaving, but he won't listen to a goddamn thing you're trying to tell him, and in the end you're just yelling at him, words and thoughts and opinions pouring out of your mouth before you can even stop yourself.

"You know what? I'm sick of your games, Kurt. Do you even remember who you used to be before... this phase of yours? No, of course you don't. I used to look up to you - back when we first met. You were so fucking proud of yourself, and you always stood up for what you believed in, and I always wanted to be like that. But now you're this... thing. Someone I don't even know anymore. Why are you doing this for yourself?"

The music pulsates around you and it feeds your adrenaline. The object of your affection blinks at you, the buzz of the alcohol dulling his eyes until it's a dim grey as the answer to your question stumbles out of him. "I need... I need to cope, Blaine, and _nothing_ is helping me, I needed someo - something to turn to - "

The laugh that escapes you sounds psychotic, and it chills you to the bone. You know you should stop before you say something you _really_ regret, but at his response you become an unstoppable force and you're screaming at him.

"Stop, just stop. Stop _right there_. You needed some - I can't believe I'm actually hearing this. I was there the entire _fucking_ time - "

You're cut off by him retaliating your statement. "You stopped caring after two weeks, Blaine, what was I supposed to - "

"Because you said you would be alright! I asked you, and you said that everything would be okay, but look at us - look at _you_! Don't fucking interrupt me, Hummel. You promised me that you would stop this shit, because it is ruining _everything_ - "

"I said that because I hoped that you would understand that nothing was okay, that I was falling apart inside, and I would need you to fix me - I thought you knew me enough to know what I was feeling!" A pause. "It looks like I was wrong."

Your head is pounding, the music not helping in the slightest, and you just want to _get the hell out of here,_ but your heart and mind are not thinking the same thing. Taking two steps forward, you look straight into his glasz eyes and your emotions take over.

"The Kurt I knew would rather die than be seen in a place like this. The Kurt I knew would sing when he was feeling down instead of resorting to these idiotic methods. The Kurt I _knew_ would rather be talking to his friends instead of allowing stranger's tongues down his throat." You take a deep breath, lowering your voice down a few octaves before you speak again. "The Kurt I know now? He's no longer the Kurt I knew; the Kurt that I was in love with." You take a step back, noticing the emotions in his eyes ranging between furious and overwhelmed and your voice goes back to its previous pitch. "If your father were alive, he would be thinking the same things I'm saying. He would be disgusted at your behavior. More importantly," you're spitting venomously in his face as he digests what you're telling him, "he would be _disgusted_ at _you_."

As you watch tears fall from his eyes and crawl down his cheeks, you realise that this lover's tiff has gone too far. He shakes his head, sobs exploding and choking out from his small frame, and all you want to do it envelope him in an embrace and apologise, but before you can apologise he's slamming into your shoulder and running into the crowd.

You stand on the spot as the haze fades from your eyes and your mind becomes clear, and as you recall the events that took place, all you want to do is crumple to the ground and forget everything that happened. Your stomach feels as though it's hit the floor as you realise that he's gone, and the possibility of him returning is particularly slim. Anxiety builds up inside as it hits you like the force of a twelve tonne truck.

You realise that he's gone and he's never coming back.

== x ==

_Slow it all down, the damage is done;  
__Play the music loud, don't make a sound.  
__Lets raise a toast to a sad story, and a dirty cup, and a dirty cup -  
__You made it, you made it hurt, so bad,  
__**You made it hurt, so bad.**_

{**Romance Is... (Acoustic Version)** - Lights  
_"Acoustic - EP", 2010_}

* * *

**Oh my word. I think I enjoyed writing the ~argument~ a bit too much. I'm thinking of having a second part to this later on in the collection. I have a certain song in mind. xD  
Thoughts? c:**

**I've been updating this pretty fast lately, but the next one might take a while. I'll try to get it up before my school's trip to London this weekend. :3 **

**Next:** _Starry Eyed - You Me At Six_


	5. Starry Eyed

**Apologies for the delay! I've been distracted by life, fics, tumblr and Klisses. Mostly by the Klisses, because when they finally happened, I ended up changing the plot for this song. The original one will probably appear sometime during this collection, but I just felt like this was a golden opportunity.**

**This ****is ****Blaine****'****s ****POV ****on ****the ****episode**** (****starting ****from ****Blackbird ****and ****then ****ending ****with ****my ****own ****alternative ****ending ****to ****the ****confession****) ****so ****spoilers ****for**** 2****x****16 '****Original ****Song****' ****ahead****!**

* * *

**Title****:** Starry Eyed  
**Rating****:** K+  
**Summary****:** "A choked intake of breath was all it took as he mulled through this latest revelation: he was in _like_ with Kurt Hummel."

* * *

A Few of my Favourite Things  
**v****.**

== x ==

_Handle__bars__, __and __then __I __let __go__, __let __go __for __anyone__.  
__Take __me __in__, __and __throw __out __my __heart __and __get __a __new __one__.  
__Next __thing__, __we__'__re __touching__;  
__You __look __at __me, __it__'__s __like __you __hit __me __with __lightning__, __lightning__._

_Woah __oh, __and __everybody__'__s __starry __eyed__,  
__And __everybody __goes__;  
__Oh__, __everybody__'__s __starry __eyed__,  
__And __my __body __goes__._

_So __we __burst __into __colours__, __colours __and __carousels__,  
__Fall __head __first __like __paper __planes __in __playground __games__.  
__Next __thing__, __we__'__re __touching__;  
__You __look __at __me__ - __it__'__s __like __you __hit __me __with __lightning__..._

{**Starry ****Eyed** - You Me At Six  
_"__Stay __With __Me__ - __EP__", 2010_}

== x ==

Who knew a song by The Beatles could be such an eye-opener?

Everyone apart from one Blaine Anderson, it seemed. It wasn't as if his life had been turned upside down in a dramatic chain of events - it was _far_ from that. It was a realisation on a topic that had been nagging him incessantly since the week before, when he was approached by a flustered Kurt Hummel, explaining that his father had given him 'the talk'. After giving a babbled confession which consisted of how he had persuaded the elder Hummel into giving said talk to his son, Blaine became relieved when the countertenor lightly slapped his shoulder and mumbled how much he hated the older teen repeatedly. Before his thoughts could catch up to him, however, he was quickly frozen into a state of shock as the teen placed a small kiss to his cheek and squeaked a "thank you", skipping ahead and leaving Blaine rooted to the spot.

Suddenly he was noticing things he had never seen before - how eye contact could never be maintained between the two of them for more than ten seconds; how a blush glazed his porcelain cheeks when Blaine flirted in a subtle manner; how he bit his lip when he was concentrating on something or he was trying to stop himself from criticising someone's outfit; how he twisted his hands when he got nervous; how his tongue poked out the edge of his mouth and his eyebrows crumpled together when something became particularly challenging...

The soloist had never been so confused in his life.

Blaine spent the next week agonising over his russet-haired friend - Did he _like_ him? (As a friend - of course.) Did he find him _attractive_? (How can he not?) Does he consider him as _more_ than a friend, or would he just keep things the way they were? (Currently: unsure.)

Did he _love_ him?

Shaking these frequently pondered thoughts out of his head, Blaine was slowly but surely noticing more things on a daily basis - like how Kurt's eyes lit up when he walked into the room, or how he walked with some sort of wiggle as they bid each other farewell at the end of the day - and then he noticed how he himself had changed - his flirting could no longer be called subtle, and humming '_When__I__Get__You__Alone__'_ under his breath when the conversation they had just finished turned into a comfortable silence _couldn__'__t_ be considered platonic. It was just after the impromptu performance of _'__Misery__' _Blaine had put on in the pathetic attempt to impress his somewhat significant other when the teen noticed how much he had changed, grumbling to himself. What the _heck_ was he doing?

It was the next day, during one of many Warbler debates held before any type of singing competition, when Kurt walked in adorning some kind of mourning attire (Blaine had a feeling he probably shouldn't have noticed how good it looked on him) and announced the death of Pavarotti. The atmosphere turned grim, a Warbler placing the teens cassette tape into the player and the tune bounced around the room when he opened his mouth...

Then he began to sing.

Every Warbler was aware of how powerful Kurt's voice was and how emotional he could get under the circumstances, but they had never experienced the two of them combined. The sound that filled the air was one filled with the strange combination of sorrow and hope as he belted out the words, voice becoming thick with the grief he had kept bottled up, and the effects began to plague everyone around him.

Blaine quickly began to harmonise, the others filing in after him, and then he began to think. He was thinking about his relationship with Kurt - how confused his feelings were around the boy, how he couldn't make his _damn__mind__up_ and decide what he was going to do next - and he never noticed the teen slowly making his way towards him. Frantically searching around the room, Blaine finally managed to find Kurt, and as he made eye contact, the lyrics were beginning to slowly embed themselves into his mind.

"_Blackbird __singing __in __the __dead __of __night__,  
__Take __these __broken __wings __and __learn __to __fly__.  
__All __your __life_,"

Blaine stopped harmonising, and began to listen. Everything seemed more personal now - like he was being sung too, that every word was meant for him to hear as some sort of plea (or cry, or _beg_), and Kurt's voice began echoing in his ears and those tear filled eyes were slowly but surely beginning to tear incessantly at his soul.

"_**You **__**were **__**only **__**waiting **__**for **__**this **__**moment **__**to **__**arise**_."

Yet it was during _that_ moment when everything clicked – the consistent glances and passing comments were all beginning to make sense now, and his hazel eyes had been metaphorically wrenched open as he took in the image of a porcelain boy with gleaming glasz eyes through a new found source of sight. A choked intake of breath was all it took as he mulled through this latest revelation:

_He __was __in _like _with __Kurt __Hummel_

The song ended, but Blaine didn't take his eyes off the younger Warbler as he said his thanks, and as Wes closed off the meeting with a slam of his gavel and the Warbler's filed out of the room in whispers and murmurs he was staring at the spot where _he_ was standing previously. Groaning and slapping his palm against his face, Blaine spoke the only words that were going through his mind.

"I'm _so_ screwed."

* * *

"Guys, I have something to confess."

There was a sudden movement as David and Wes slammed their books shut and turned to face their close friend, staring at him with patient eyes as he glanced around his bedroom. As Blaine's nerves kicked into gear, David emitted a loud sigh.

"Okay, let me guess - you hid Wes' gavel again, didn't you?"

The soloist frowned. "No..."

"Does it have something to do with John Baker constantly drooling every time you enter a room?" Wes questioned, cocking his head to the side.

Blaine rolled his eyes. "No, it's something really serious - "

David jumped to his feet and pointed a finger in his direction. "You infected my iPod with Katy Perry!" The council member's voice took on a threatening tone as he jabbed his finger in the nest of springy curls atop Blaine's head. "I _knew_ it."

He ground his teeth together and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes, but that was a while ago, this only happened yesterday-"

Now it was Wes' turn to jump to his feet and point an accusing finger towards the raven-haired teen who was now the only one sitting on the floor. "You and David have been hiding my Harry Potter DVDs. I should have _known_ when you led me away two days ago with the intent of talking about song choices for Regionals that David was going to take them!"

David spun around, glaring at Wes' somewhat inculpative finger. "I did no such thing - "

Blaine stood up suddenly, eyes squeezed closed and fists clenched as he half screamed, half growled:

"_I __think __I __like __Kurt__!_"

The room was silent as the duo in front of him criticised his every move. Opening one of his eyes, Blaine noticed the incredulous looks on their faces.

"Is that all?" David asked, one eyebrow arching. "I mean, everyone knows you like him..."

His curls bounced as he shook his head. "No, as in, I think I _like_ like Kurt."

Their mouths fell open simultaneously as they glanced at each other.

Wes started speaking. "Okay, so let me get this straight. You think you like Kurt." a nod. "As in, you may like him as more than a friend." a nod, this time accompanied by a blush. "And the possibility that you could be in love with him is...?" he vehemently shook his head at this statement, turning scarlet. Wes nodded his head slowly, turning towards David and Blaine watched as his facial expression turned from serious to smug. "I called it!"

David pouted, hand digging into his pocket and taking out a twenty dollar bill, slamming it into his friends open hand as he grumbled solemnly. Blaine felt his mouth fall open at the sight in front of him. "You guys bet on this?" he asked incredulously, watching as Wes grinned sheepishly and David scratched the back of his head. "Well, yeah. We saw your facial expression after you bid him farewell when he was spying, and everything kinda evolved from there..."

Blaine shook his head and stared at who he thought were his best friends. "Are the Warbler's in on this as well?" The duo shook their heads and the soloist breathed a sigh of relief, plonking himself down on the floor and returning his gaze to the textbook in front of him. Wes and David looked to each other, matching grins forming on their faces as they sat directly in front of their friend. Blaine sighed, still looking at his textbook and trying to ignore their curious stares. "You know, you guys remind me of Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee when you do that."

The pair rolled their eyes, leaning towards him. He squirmed uncomfortably under their sight, and after attempting to ignore their never ending 'glares', he gave in and met their gazes. "What." he stated, sighing as he prepared to answer their onslaught of questions.

"So, you and Kurt, eh?" David started, leaning back a bit so he could get a better view of Blaine's body language. "When did you realise?"

"During Blackbird." Blaine whispered, beginning to gnaw on his lip absentmindedly as he reminisced. Wes rolled his eyes, lightly shoving the soloist and breaking his thoughts, smirking as a scowl appeared on his face. Blaine continued. "Well, I had this notion that I might have something for him for a while now. It just sorta... clicked, I guess."

Wes pondered this, tapping an index finger against his chin. "And you're sure this isn't love... how?"

Blaine rolled his eyes. "This may sound stupid, but I've looked up the definition of love in dictionaries, and it seems like it _could_ be, but I'm just not sure. I've seen how characters in TV shows and books think they're in love, and how they normally fall apart after an argument about something stupid like who took the last of the cereal. My parents also said they were in love, but look at them now - divorced with a son that neither of them want. I'm scared that if this is love, then it will screw up everything that Kurt and I have." The teen shrugged, moving his gaze from the duo in front of him and to the floor. "To summarise; I'm confused, I guess."

This silence lasted longer than the previous one as the three of them ran through Blaine's explanation in their heads. The soloist frowned, picking at threads that were sticking up from the carpet while the pair in front of him stared at each other. Blaine broke the ice, glancing up at Wes and David with a small smile on his face. "And do you remember who I last thought I was in love with?"

All three shivered involuntarily as they remembered Blaine's old crush. "Who can forget?" Wes mumbled, the image of one Roger Smith began to taint his mind, "I still remember the useless information I attained from that period of time, like what type of shampoo he used and what he ate for lunch on a daily basis."

David took this opportunity to place his hand over the frowning raven-haired teen in front of him. His eyebrows crumpled as he glanced between his hand and the council member, who returned the glances with a comforting smile.

"We're happy for you, Blaine. And we'll stick with you no matter what happens, okay?" Blaine nodded, his frown dissolving into a satisfied grin as he removed his hand. Nodding at the two in front of him, he mumbled "Thank you" before looking at his work again.

The trio fell must and went back to their work, opening up textbooks and finishing off whatever answers they were previously in the middle of writing. Suddenly the silence was broken by a sentence that would change the rest of the evening.

"David hid your Harry Potter DVDs in my pyjama drawer, Wes."

The next few days were excruciatingly painful and filled to the brim with entranced glances, lost-puppy-ish following, coy flirting and smothering, hair-pull worthy sexual tension as Regionals drew closer and closer. The meetings became longer, filled with more changes Warblers were wishing to make and various critique on their opening and ending performances, and Blaine was absolutely sick of it. So he suggested a duet - approval by every Warbler clear as their hands sprung into the air - and then as soon as Kurt requested to be put on the audition list, Blaine sprung out the next part of his improvised plan; that Kurt would be the one singing an unknown duet, and to Blaine's surprise, everyone (apart from John Baker, he noted with a grimace) raised their hand in agreement, the Warbler noticing the smug look on the head council member's face as he nodded in approval. There was a short applause, Blaine glancing around the room and a grin lighting up his face as he took in Kurt's perplexed expression, a smile appearing on his face that made his eyes twinkle in the late afternoon sunlight.

If there was anything he could do to make him smile like that, he thought, then he would do whatever it takes.

The room emptied as the sound of a Gavel slamming onto a desk reverberated around the wooden walls, inane chatter becoming quieter as the seconds ticked by, until only four of the Warbler's remained.

Kurt smiled at Blaine, grabbing his satchel and throwing it over his shoulder. "So, I guess we'll discuss this later?" he asked, a smile still present on his face. Blaine nodded, Kurt reciprocated the movement and waved as he walked out of the room.

_And __then __there __were __three_, Blaine thought dully, eyes fixated on the door as two figures stood by either side. A hand clapped down on his shoulder, causing the lead soloist to jump and return to his surroundings.

"What are you thinking about, lover boy?" David asked, staring down at his friend with curious eyes and a playful smile.

"That he's got a beautiful smile..." a pause, "and that I'm going to have to find an amazing song for us to sing."

Wes smiled. "Well then, you better get cracking." He slapped his shoulder and the duo made their way out the door, leaving a now frowning Blaine to his thoughts.

* * *

It was a quiet day at Dalton - the skies were a concrete grey, students deciding to stay in the comfort of their dorms in case rain decided to break from it's protective barrier - and instead of revising for his extremely important math test the next day, Blaine was spending it looking for songs that he could perform with Kurt at Regionals.

Again.

"No." he said out loud, earning an eye roll from Wes and David, who had thrown themselves onto Blaine's floor without the soloist's permission and decided to study there, and he changed the song with a click. Silence was bestowed upon them as Blaine listened to the song, and with a monotone "No" and a tap, the song had changed to another.

As the process continued, the speed of the songs changed from one every thirty seconds to one every five. David rolled his eyes, crawling over to where Blaine was perched at the end of his four-poster bed, sitting beside him and looking at his iTunes window. Noticing why Blaine couldn't pick anything, he rolled his eyes again. "Maybe the reason you can't find anything to listen to is because you're currently looking through your 'Rock Bottom' playlist instead of your actual iTunes library." he spoke with a patronising tone, noticing how Blaine's mouth formed an 'O' shape and his eyes widened. He turned around to look at his friend sheepishly, a small thanks tumbling out of his mouth as he continued on his search. David gave him a small pat on the back before returning to his open textbook, the sound of Blaine saying no becoming a hum in the background.

It was half an hour later, Blaine still saying no as he skimmed through his music, when something began to change.

"No." click. "No." tap. "N- hold on..." there was a pause, Blaine's eyes widening as he listened to the song. Then before he knew it, he had thrown his laptop onto his bed carelessly and jumped up, pumping a fist into the air as he screamed "Yes!"

The duo on the floor looked up in alarm, mouths open and eyes wide as Blaine began to pace around the room, mumbling to himself.

"It's perfect! The lyrics, the tune.. imagine the arrangements we could create-!"

"So I'm guessing you found a song." David spoke, watching as Blaine stopped walking and skipped over to where they were sitting, grabbing his laptop off the bed in the process. The soloist gave a small nod, a dopey grin that accentuated his dimples coming across his face as he stared at the song with wide eyes.

Wes sighed, holding out his hands. "Let's see it then." Blaine almost threw his laptop at the council member in excitement, the grin still staying on his face as Wes looked at the song.

"'Candles' by 'Hey Monday'... I never pegged you as a Hey Monday fan, Blaine." he stated, playing the song and listening to it. A few seconds later, he handed back the machine and a smile grew on his face. "Alright, it'll do. We'll do this number for our opening duet."

Blaine jumped up for the second time that day, this time the laptop clattering almost gracefully to the floor. "Really? We can do it?" As Wes nodded his head, Blaine pulled the taller of the two into a one-armed hug, gasping. "I need to go find him! I'll be back in five minutes." he exclaimed, bounding out the room and running down the hall.

The silence consumed the stunned council members on the floor as their eyes remained on the open doorway, only to be broken by the one thing they do best;

"Ten bucks they make out."

"Deal."

* * *

After asking everyone where Kurt would be - finally finding out the answer from Jeff, who looked at him like he had unknowingly sprouted four heads and a tail - Blaine sprinted towards the common room, stopping short as he took in the sight before him.

Kurt's russet coloured hair was glowing in the daylight, smooth porcelain skin resembling silk as he worked on... whatever he was working on. The look of apparent concentration he was giving the object brought a small smile to his own face as the teen stuck his tongue out of the side of his mouth, eyebrows furrowed and eyes shining with engrossment.

And if Blaine was being frankly honest, he had never seen anything more beautiful.

He took a few shaky steps forward, letting Kurt acknowledge his presence before telling him the song choice and for some _stupid_reason telling him the reason why he picked it - Blaine was aware of how Kurt makes him blurt out everything he's thinking, thank you very much - the original plan of telling Kurt and returning to Wes and David went out the window as he sat down in the chair beside his crush for no particular reason.

A small pause before Kurt was asking a question that Blaine had been unknowingly dreading: "Why did you pick me to sing the duet with you?"

Of course, Blaine could have lied - told him that because his first audition didn't end well that this could be his redemption, or that he didn't want to sing a duet with someone who was just an acquaintance and not a best friend - but this was Kurt he was talking about, and embarrassment be _damned_. Blaine couldn't lie when it came to the russet haired teen who had captured his heart when they crossed paths at the stairs and he was asking for directions.

So he told him the truth.

He told him how he had a realisation the other day - the moment when he realised he had been looking for him forever (_not__Jeremiah_, he thought, _not__Rachel__... __just__Kurt__and__Kurt__alone_) watching him perform Blackbird as an ode to his resting feathery-friend; how it moved him emotionally; how _he_ moved him emotionally; how the duet was just an excuse to spend more time with his crush...

Hesitation hung in the air as the two took in the words that were just spoken, Kurt looking at Blaine with disbelief and Blaine looking at Kurt like he was the only person that really mattered, like those doe-like eyes were the only thing he wanted to be looking at and how those lips looked like they could be put to good use...

And so they were as Blaine leant forward and captured them with his own.

_Wait__, __what__?_

The soloist realised what he was doing, about to pull away and apologise profusely when the lips underneath his began to reciprocate his movements and a hand came up to cup his cheek..

_Oh__._

_Okay__, __this __is __good__,_ He thought, breathing becoming laboured and knees buckling as Kurt's tongue flicked itself lightly over his top lip as some sort of experiment, the kiss beginning to deepen when Blaine reluctantly pulled away. They both looked at each other, noticing how their pupils had dilated and their chests were heaving as a resounding thud entered the air and a small smile appear on his lips. Blaine sat back down and looked away, somewhat embarrassed at what he was thinking. His thoughts quickly became muddled and mixed, the only one that he could understand being _If __that__'__s __what __kissing __Kurt __Hummel __is __like__, __then __I __would __like __to __be __doing __that __all __the __freakin__' __time__._

Shaking his head and rubbing a hand at the back of his neck, Blaine blinked a few times, a dopey smile present on his face. Suddenly he remembered why he was here in the first place, and with one final glance he moved his gaze to the table the two were seated at.

"We - We should practice." he stuttered out, still looking at the table as he gave a shaky chuckle.

"I thought we were." Kurt replied impishly, voice shaky and filled with adrenaline, and as Blaine looked up, he noticed his luminous glasz eyes were filled with undeniable joy.

_But __we __weren__'__t__, __what __is __he __talking __about__ -_ Oh.

And with that statement, the two were leaning in again. As their lips crashed together this time, it all became a clash of teeth and tongues and hands clutching needily at one another and lips becoming swollen with every passing minute. Kurt was the first one to break away a few minutes later, resting his forehead against Blaine's as he inhaled deeply.

"I'm not dreaming, right?" he asked, staring at Blaine with wide eyes. The soloist gave an impish grin, raising one arm to pinch the back of the teens hand (which earned him a high pitched squeal) and raising an eyebrow as if to say "Of course not" before tilting his head to the side and placing a small, chaste kiss onto Kurt's lips, him kissing back with half the enthusiasm used before and then leaning back to look Blaine with an unwavering gaze.

"Is this some kind of bet?" the countertenor asked quietly, removing his hands from where they were clutching at the back of Blaine's neck to twist them together. Blaine felt his once-soaring heart become anchored to the ground as his facial expression crumpled.

"What?" he replied feebly, words escaping him as he fell back into his chair.

Kurt shrugged his shoulders. "It's just a thought," he whispered, looking at his intertwined hands. "I mean, I know how much the Warblers love betting, and they bet on _everything_, and I know that I'm nothing special, just broken goods, and I need to know so I can prepare myself for whatever happens after today -"

Blaine managed to snap out of his state of shock and place his hands over Kurt's. "I'm going to have to stop you there, because there are some things you need to know." Hazel eyes bore into glasz ones. "One, if the Warblers did bet on anything, it's just for fun. It's not to toy with anyone's emotions. We may be emotionless automatons, but we're not _that_ shallow." Kurt gave a small smile, looking away. "Two, I don't know what went down at your old school, but everything you heard about you that would be considered derogatory is a lie." The teen looked up again, surprise evident in his eyes as Blaine rambled on.

"You know, every time you hint that you're worthless or not special, it breaks my heart - because you _are_ special, and you _are_ worth it. You're worth _so_ much, and just because some bigoted idiots decided that you're not up to their standards doesn't mean that you should change who you are, you don't falter under their empty threats, and I love that about you. I love that you would rather sing broadway classics than anything in the top 40, and that instead of letting things go you clutch onto them until there's nothing you can do to make it better, and how you're still able to stand after all the stuff they've done to you. I wouldn't change anything about you for the world, even if you are 'broken goods' - nothing's unfixable, right? - it's just... stop putting yourself down, because you're everything to me and I'm rambling and I can't stop because I've somehow only just realised that I love you so much it hurts t - mmph!"

Thankfully, Kurt had managed to stop Blaine before he could continue with his rant, his pale hands gripping the lapels of Blaine's blazer and his lips smashing eagerly against the soloists, who after a few seconds began kissing back with just as much ferocity. They broke apart with a resounding pop and heavy breathing filled the air, the two just blinking at each other.

"It was the only thing I could think of to shut you up," Kurt began, still staring at Blaine, "because that's the nicest thing that anyone's ever spewed to me, and although I'm finding it hard to believe that you're the one telling me these things, I could _probably_ get used to it."

Blaine grinned, removing Kurt's hands from his blazer and lacing their fingers together. "And until you begin to believe it, I'll be sending you texts every morning telling you that you look beautiful and paying for people to deliver you messages, and maybe I'll even pay for a plane to put message banners in the sky like they used to do in really cheesy movies."

The smile on the younger Warbler's face was reminiscent to the Cheshire Cat as he squeezed his hand. "I think I like the last one the best." he replied, biting his lip as he stared at Blaine, watching his eyesight flicker between his lips and his eyes.

"Is that so?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow and moving his chair forward, wrapping his arms securely around Kurt's waist and resting his forehead against the others, watching as a pair of arms wrapped themselves around his neck.

"Mhmm." was the reply he got, quickly followed by a husky "So, where were we?"

Blaine, noticing the tone Kurt spoke with, mumbled "Practising" before crushing his lips onto the other teen's and letting out a groan, and all Blaine could think was how this moment couldn't be ruined by anything.

Until there was a loud cough from behind them.

Blaine had never jumped away from someone quicker in his life, and as he heard Kurt squeak in surprise and watch as his skin tone go from porcelain to scarlet, he turned around to face the intruders.

"We were wondering why five minutes suddenly turned into thirty -"

"Thirty-two minutes and forty... seven seconds, actually."

"Thank you for giving us that piece of important information, Wesley. Anyway, we decided to go looking, but I can see that you were otherwise '_preoccupied__'_..."

Blaine groaned, his head falling heavily onto his hands as the stares of Wes and David bore into his back and Kurt began to stutter out answers.

"We were o-only, uh, practi-ticing t-the, uh..."

David nodded his head, a knowing smirk blooming on his face. "Right. Okay then..."

There was an awkward pause, the silence only being broken by an overly curious Wes.

"So, are you guys together then?"

The two of them raised their heads, looking each other in the eye before staring at the duo in front of them.

"Only if he wants too." they both replied at the same time. After a pause, they both turned towards the other and blinked. "You want to be together?" Matching grins appeared on their faces and the blushes on their cheeks became worse. "Okay then."

As the two joined hands, David rolled his eyes and gave an exaggerated wave towards them. "We'll just leave you to 'practice', then." He walked out the open doors, only turning around to remind them that Regionals was only in a few days and they should be getting on with more 'productive' things, and Wes trailed behind them.

It was silent, only smiles being exchanged between the two of them as they mutually agreed to begin practising properly on their duet when two familiar voices echoed throughout Dalton.

"Cough up, David."

"How the hell do you know these things?"

* * *

**Here****'****s ****to ****hoping ****I ****get ****the ****next ****one ****out ****faster****, ****haha****.  
****Constructive ****criticism ****would ****be ****amazing ****Cx**

**Next****: **_Teenage __Dream__ - __Glee __Cast_


	6. Teenage Dream

**Okay, I have no excuse for this being super late, apart from a simple 'It was quite hard to write'. Apologies on my laziness! It's going to be in a "5 times / 1 time" layout, but it'll be a bit different... and it's pretty much all out angst at the last part. Consider this a warning, haha.**

**Thanks to everyone who's favourited/alerted/reviewed so far! I think I died when I saw that this has reached over 2,500 hits. It's absolutely mind blowing. I don't think I can say thank you enough.  
And yes, I changed my username from "DemyxPlaysMySitar" to "thissuperficialhypocrisy", the same username as my tumblr. Yep!**

* * *

**Title: **Teenage Dream  
**Rating:** T (For swearing and Character death. I think I'm pushing it though.)  
**Summary:** "Isn't it a coincidence how everything amazing suddenly comes crashing down, in a moments notice, and you're left to pick up the pieces?" Kurt remembers the first time his life became infinitely better, and the one time it became infinitely worse.

* * *

A Few of my Favourite Things  
**vi.**

== x ==

{**Teenage Dream** - Glee Cast  
"_Glee: The Music, Volume 4", 2010_}

== x ==

_Isn't it a coincidence that everything amazing..._

== x ==

* * *

i.

He remembers the first time they met.

It could have been fate - he was supposed to be spying, but instead he had managed to lose his way between the bust of William Shakespeare and the rounding staircase, too entranced by the natural beauty of the place. The other was late to an impromptu Warbler's performance after Mr. Wilson kept him behind to talk about an overdue essay, and he was grumbling to himself as he sprinted down the main staircase, only to be stopped by a flourish of words and a light touch on his shoulder.

It was then that everything changed, he decided. They talked for a bit - him learning that the glee club at this school was actually accepted, and the other learning that although he was _pretending_ to be a new student, he couldn't ignore that he did have a good taste in fashion - and then they were holding hands, running down an unknown hallway that was soon to be called _their_ shortcut, and as they broke apart, he was being sung too.

He couldn't keep his eyes off those hazel orbs, a grin spreading across his face and hands clasping together as he recited the lyrics in his head.

"_Let's go all the way tonight,  
__No regrets; just love.  
__We can dance until we die,  
__You and I; __**we'll be young forever**_."

And as the Warbler heavily punctuated the last line with a grin and a subtle wink, Kurt was pretty sure he had a new favourite song.

* * *

ii.

He remembers the time they _finally_ got their act together.

It was a few days after the Common Room incident, as Kurt decided to name it - the weekend had ended, and no one knew what was going on between KurtandBlaine anymore. Unsure glances were bouncing off each other's backs, fingertips twitching in remembrance, lips curling and eyes glazing over in recollection, blushes spreading over already rosy cheeks when their eyes met in passing, a lack of conversation between the duo as they communicated through nods and grunts.

Then everything became crystal clear during Warbler's rehearsal. Their first run-through of 'Candles' as a group was literally electrifying; the tension in the air crackling and humming lightly in the background, hearts beating erratically and pulses racing, faces flushing from the adrenaline and the heat in the room rising to sweltering heights. The song came to a close, silence in the room palpable and difficult to breath in as Wes finally told them to break away for the day. Kurt stumbled towards his bag, hand gripping on the strap and a scorching hand resting lightly on the cool surface of the leather couch where it lay, flinching automatically at the temperature difference. And it was when he was desperate to leave the room, to get away from questioning eyes and knowing smirks and people who didn't know what was actually going on, that a pair of arms wrapped themselves around his waist and a familiar voice mumbled into his ear, requesting that he stays in the room and causing him to squeak, much to his chagrin, in embarrassment.

The room cleared out and silence engulfed the pair as the countertenor spun around to face the other teen. "Hi," he whispered, a small smile gracing his face.

Blaine smiled in return, his hands resting lightly on Kurt's waist. "Hi," as Kurt was about to speak up, Blaine held a hand up to stop him before continuing on. "The reason I've made you stay behind is to... well, on Friday, after we kissed... I realised that I forgot to do something..."

Kurt blinked in shock and he felt his face heat up, the pace of his heartbeat increasing and his breathing becoming laboured. He watched as the lead soloist looked away, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth before taking a deep breath and looking straight into the countertenor's glasz eyes.

"Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, will you do me the honor of becoming my boyfriend?" he asked, expecting to be rejected by the boy in front of him as his hazel eyes squinted in preparation. Shock overwhelmed him when a pair of arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him down for a chaste kiss, lips working soundly together until the countertenor pulled away, plump, cherry red lips widening into a breathtaking smile.

"You're such a doofus." he mumbled, turning his head to rest on Blaine's shoulder and smirking when his breath caused the lead soloist to lightly tremble. "Of course I will."

There was a sharp intake of breath above him, quickly followed by a weight on top of his head and arms circling securely around his waist. Letting out a minuscule giggle, Blaine began to sway them from side to side, humming a familiar tune along to the movement. Kurt blinked, trying his best to summon a frown on his face before looking up at his boyfriend.

_Boyfriend._

Shaking his thoughts out of his head, he delicately arched an eyebrow in Blaine's general direction. "You're humming that? _Really?_" Kurt pursed his lips in an attempt to stall the smile threatening to bloom on his face, placing his head back on the other teen's shoulder and allowing the facial expression to break free.

Blaine chuckled lightly, readjusting his head so his chin kept his head propped up. "Of course. It is our song, after all." He continued humming and his hands began to run absentmindedly across Kurt's back. "And your frown wasn't fooling anyone, mister."

"Damn." Kurt mumbled, not bothering to hide the smirk on his face. "What gave it away?" he questioned, lifting his head up to look at Blaine (and chortling lightly when his face lit up with shock at the sudden disappearance of Kurt's head from under his chin.)

The soloist moved a hand to lightly capture the countertenor's face, a smile breaking out across his features. "Because I just know you so damn well." He brushed his thumb lightly over Kurt's bottom lip before letting go and reaching behind his own neck, grabbing one of the other teen's (_smooth, lightly freckled, soft_) hands and lacing their fingers together. "Come on, now - we have a coffee date to attend."

Kurt rolled his eyes, squeezing Blaine's hand before allowing the older Warbler to lead the way, an infectious grin spreading across their faces as Blaine returned to his humming, this time singing the lyrics out loud.

"_Before you met me, I was a wreck,  
__But things were kinda heavy, you brought me to life,"_

And before they knew it, they were singing together, smooth, sugar coated voices intertwining and creating a melody that surprised those around to witness the duo's first walk down the hallways of Dalton as a couple.

"_Now every February,__** you'll be my valentine**__, valentine."_

* * *

iii.

He remembers the first time they realised how lucky they were.

Only in the worst way possible, Kurt believes at that time. They had managed to make it through high school without a hitch ("If you can survive McKinley, then you can survive anywhere." is their new motto.) and also got into the same college, the pair living in an apartment together and spending almost all their free time in each other's company. Everything was smooth sailing - the ocean ahead was clear, nothing was in their way; sky a clear, cerulean blue and the sun high in the sky...

And then an iceberg by the name of Mark Stone reared its ugly head in the distance.

It wasn't like Kurt was worried at first - he had been mentioned in previous discussions as Blaine's partner in a project they had to work on, and Kurt agreed to meet the guy that was becoming one of Blaine's closest friends at a frightening speed.

And _that's_ when Kurt began to get worried.

Mark Stone looked like he had just walked off a catwalk in France. His jaw was square, lips full and encased in his face were the most interesting jade green eyes that could sparkle even in the lowest of lighting. Amber toned skin did wonders for his complexion, and well defined muscles looked like they were bulging under the tight polo shirt that looked _painted_ onto his body, and every now and then he would raise a hand to brush back glossy, dirty blond locks from the front of his face. His laugh was infectious and light, almost like he was chuckling at everything Blaine (_his_ boyfriend. _His_.) was saying, and he liked a _lot_ of the things Blaine liked.

Blaine, _his boyfriend._

Kurt knew that something that small shouldn't get to him, but he couldn't help it. Stone was a flirt of the rambunctious kind - a touch here, a wink there, a suave attitude every-fucking-where. He decided it would be best to stay out of the conversation they were having (because they were already perfect without him there to taint it, thank you very much) and when it came to leaving wherever they were at and returning home, Blaine asked for his opinion. And he replied in total honesty.

"I would have liked him better if it looked like he didn't want to shove his tongue down your throat when he thought I wasn't looking."

...And this time around, maybe honesty wasn't the _best_ thing to have given.

They didn't speak to each other for days after that opinion became known - Kurt stuck to his studies and Blaine stuck to his project, and it wasn't until a week later when the countertenor was attempting to put together his final design ideas when a well-missed figure plonked themselves on the edge of their bed. Kurt looked over, watching as Blaine's dazed expression finally became disbelief and suddenly morphed into shock.

Emitting a loud sigh, he finally set down his ideas and gave Blaine his full attention, fingers overlapping each other and resting lightly against his knees as he waited for his boyfriend to speak.

Blaine turned his head and blinked at him a few times, his mouth agape as he tried to gather his thoughts.

"He tried to stick his tongue down my throat."

Rolling his eyes, Kurt sat beside Blaine and threw an arm around his shoulders, giving a comforting squeeze and allowing all of the other man's confusion to flow freely ("We were talking about sports, and then he asked me about Tennis... I had no idea he meant..." "Oh no - " "He just said that I looked like I would be good at Tonsil Tennis, and then he just kind of _lunged_ at me, like some kind of _animal_." "I_ knew_ he wasn't human!" "What?" "...Never mind.") it soon became obvious, however, that chatting about what happened wasn't getting them anywhere, so Kurt devised a plan.

"Grab all the sheets, blankets and pillows we have in this place and put them all in the living room. I'll go to the kitchen and see what we have to eat."

Blaine looked at him with furrowed brows, confusion still clouding his senses. "What exactly are we doing..."

Kurt stood over him, bending down so he could look him in the eye, grinning wildly. "We're going to build a pillow fort!"

Construction took roughly an hour (mostly because Blaine had never created a pillow fort, much to Kurt's surprise) and preparation for the night itself literally took about fifteen minutes, but by the time they had settled in, put on a film and were feeding each other different bits of food, they realised that it was so worth all the hassle. It was comfortable, secure, and the fairy lights Kurt added around the edges gave it that extra 'push'. Soon enough, however, they got bored of films, and instead spent the time reminiscing on their Dalton and McKinley days.

"Sure, isn't that why Wes had to give up his Gavel?" Kurt questioned, picking up a marshmallow and throwing it in his mouth, chewing in thought.

Blaine rolled his eyes, putting a handful of skittles into his mouth before replying. "Nph, tat wos bcos - "

The countertenor broke out into giggles at Blaine's attempt at multitasking. "Swallow before you speak, you silly goose."

"Tat's wot se sid," he mumbled in return, swallowing the contents of his mouth before repeating what he was saying. "Anyway, No - the Gavel had to be given up for two reasons; number one, his attachment to that inanimate object was slightly creepy, and number two, he enjoyed threatening Warbler's by 'aiming for their heads', and the one time he actually kept to his promise, he ended up knocking the person out." There was a silence as Kurt tried to think of who it could have been, but Blaine answered for him anyway. "Bill Sawyer."

Kurt gasped, hand automatically covering his mouth as Blaine began munching on a chocolate bar. "So that's why he came in late during the year!"

The other teen nodded morosely, beginning to eat even more skittles along with what he was currently eating. Silence soon fell between the two, both of them pondering on what to say next.

Blaine was the first one to break the silence as he swallowed even more skittles. "Kurt?"

The countertenor looked over suddenly, curiosity apparent on his face.

Giving a goofy grin, Blaine went to take the last of the skittles. "Thanks for doing this."

Rolling his eyes, Kurt crawled over to where the other man was seated, wrapping his arms around his neck and joining their foreheads together. "It's honestly no problem. You would probably do the same thing for me. This no talking thing was annoying me anyway."

Blaine mumbled, leaning up to capture Kurt's mouth in a small kiss, and the countertenor moaned when his tongue came into contact with Blaine's bottom lip.

"What is it?" he asked curiously, leaning away to look at his boyfriend, who was smiling and licking his lips.

"You taste of the rainbow." Kurt mumbled, breaking out into a grin when Blaine practically roared with laughter.

"That has got to be one of the worst jokes ever. You used an advertising campaign... I don't even..."

Kurt kept the grin on his face as he leaned in, humming_ their_ song lightly under his breath as he got closer.

"_We drove to Cali and got drunk on the beach,  
__Got a motel and built a floor out of sheets,  
__I finally found you, __**my missing puzzle piece  
**__**I'm complete**__."_

He finally pressed their lips together, and just as the duo were _really_ getting into it, Blaine pulled away and looked at Kurt with a serious expression on his face. "But, we're not in Cali. And we've never gotten drunk on a beach - "

So Kurt shut him up the best way he knew how.

* * *

iv.

He remembers the happiest week of his life.

It was all one big surprise - they were twenty seven, college already passed by in flying colours and they were living the life they had always dreamed about; outside of Lima, Ohio and away from those who couldn't accept what true love was. Blaine had whisked them away to Las Vegas on a 'moment's' notice and under the somewhat miniature Eiffel Tower along the strip he lowered himself onto one knee and blurted out an over-rehearsed speech about how much he loves him and how he's changed his life in more ways than one and that he would love for Kurt and Blaine to become KurtandBlaine for the rest of their lives. It's with a pregnant pause and a ramble of how this is probably rushed and he really shouldn't have done this and he's sorry for dragging him the whole way out to _Las freakin' Vegas_ because this was the closest he could get to France at a quick notice and he's such an idiot for assuming that he wants to get married that Kurt manages to wake up and pounce on his boyfriend (no, _fiancée_), screaming yes repeatedly in his ear.

And as the ring gets put in place and the odd passerbyes stop and stare at the proceedings, the duo become so overfilled with relief and sheer bliss that they begin to giggle uncontrollably, kissing once, twice, maybe even three times before Blaine mentions that they need to do this right now, much to Kurt's disbelief ("B-but I don't even have an outfit planned! How can I get married looking like I've just walked out of the local hostel!" "Don't worry about it, I packed suits before we left. We couldn't have you walk down the aisle unprepared, could we? Not that I wouldn't mind..." "...I'm just going to ignore that last statement and tell you how much I freakin' adore you right now.")

One Elvis impersonating invigilator and a night in a random Honeymoon Suite later, The newlywed Anderson-Hummel's (because it sounds better in alphabetical order, thank you very much.) are on their way home, where their friends and family wait with baited breath to see how Blaine's plan of six weeks worked out. There's a surprise reception planned in the Hudmel's back garden, a long white tent with fairy lights ("like fireflies," they mumble to each other, before grinning and saying "Nah, like Pillow Forts" in perfect sync) wrapped around the sides where everyone offers their congratulations and hopes for the future. Then the Warbler's are up on the makeshift stage, wishing the duo all the luck in the world and sorting out who won the bet created ten years ago, and as they break out into _their_ song for _their _first dance, they can't help the Cheshire Cat-esque grins that flourish onto their faces.

"_You make me feel like I'm living a teenage dream;"  
__The way you turn me on, I can't sleep;  
__Let's runaway and don't ever look back."_

They hum along with pride, taking it in turns to lead their 'shuffle' and twirl majestically around the dance floor, smiling faces and teary eyes swirling past them as the song continues and various couples join them over that period of time.

"_**Don't ever look back**__."_

And later on that night is when it really sinks in, when all they are is a pile of tangled limbs, heavy breathing and synchronised thrusts, that they're in it for the long run - that not even death is going to be able to part them.

There is no way in hell they're ever going to look back.

* * *

== x ==

_Suddenly comes crashing down, without a moments notice..._

== x ==

* * *

interval.

"Shit."

Kurt frowned immediately, turning down the volume of the weather report on the TV and twisting his head to look at his husband, brow furrowing as he took in the disgruntled expression and hands twisting in his raven-hued hair. "What's wrong?" he asked, lips becoming a thin line when Blaine let out an exasperated sigh.

"It's nothing, I just forgot to... dammit!"

Kurt rolled his eyes fondly as he removed himself from the sofa and made his way slowly towards Blaine, arms curling around the other man's waist and smiling as his husband loosened up and rested his head on Kurt's shoulder.

"I hope this doesn't have something to do with my 36th birthday tomorrow." Kurt whispered in his ear, arms tightening and lips peppering small kisses around the shell of his ear. Blaine gave a grunt of approval at the action and moved his hand to play with the silver wedding ring on Kurt's left hand.

"_Maaaybe_..." he started, glancing towards Kurt and back to the ring, a goofy grin spreading across his face as Kurt nudged his earlobe lightly with his nose. "That tickles." he remarked, squirming under his husband's touch.

Kurt repeated the action, trying to stop a smile breaking out across his own face as he ignored the other man's pleas. He twisted his head to look at the weather and gnawed at his lip as he multi tasked between listening to the man in his arms and the woman on the TV.

"_...It's been forcast that snow will increase in the next few hours, causing delays on the road all over the nation and what could be an increase in traffic collisions..._"

"...But it is important, practically _vital_ that I manage to get whatever I need to get, and I'm pretty sure that the store is still open..."

"_...we have been told to tell anyone planning on going out to stay indoors and not risk going out for their own safety as ice on the roads are a cause of concern at this moment in time..._"

"...You know what? I think I will. I'll need to get my keys and stuff, so if you don't mind me..."

And as Blaine slid out of his arms and moved towards his jacket, he felt his stomach twist into an unruly knot and a chill run down his spine. Key's jangled dauntingly and a soft "I'll see you later" rang out around the house.

"Wait!" Kurt yelled out, pulling Blaine to a halt just as he was about to turn the handle and let himself out. He walked over slowly, wrapping (shaking) arms around Blaine's neck and putting his head on his shoulder to hide his (terrified) expression. "Do you have to go out there?" he asks, the question muffled by his husband's jacket.

A sigh is emitted and a pair of arms wrap themselves slowly around his shoulders, pulling him closer.

"Is this about the weather forcast?" Blaine questions silently, and when his reply comes in the form of silence and the man quaking lightly in his arms, Blaine pulls Kurt back to look him in the eyes.

"Don't listen to what they're saying - it's just a bit of snow and ice. Everything's going to be fine." he spoke softly, lightly calloused fingers wiping away the tears that were slowly trekking down Kurt's face. The other man nodded slowly, a smile that closely resembled a grimace appearing on his face as he placed a soft kiss on his husbands lips.

"I love you." Kurt mumbled, removing his hands from Blaine's neck and moving them to lightly cup his face, placing a lingering kiss on his forehead. "This had better be worth it."

His grin was crooked as hazel met glasz, stepping backwards and moving so he stood outside the threshold of the house. "Oh, it so will be tomorrow." Blaine moved towards the door, grin still in place and eyes twinkling in excitement, and as he moved to close it fully he stated that he loved Kurt, too.

He remembers the sinking feeling that happened in his gut when the door closed shut and a thick silence blanketed over the house. (_nodonttcomebackbang_)

He remembers the sound of the engine being switched on. (_clickgroanwheezegrowl_)

He remembers the sound of tires squelching down the driveway as the reporter droned on and on in the background. (_slipslidetreacheroushazardous__**stayindoors**_)

He remembers trying to blink back tears and the feeling of unwanted worries clouding his mind. (_he'snevercominghomeagain_)

He remembers crawling into bed and lulling himself to sleep with the help of the weather forcast replaying in the background. (_pleasestaysafe_)

(_**Iloveyou**_)

* * *

== x ==

_And all you're left with is the remains?_

== x ==

* * *

curtain call.

He remembers the time his worst fears were recognised.

It's five am when he's awoken by a incessant ringing noise, and it takes a few minutes to realise that the bed is unusually cold and the phone is ringing. The TV can still be heard in the background as he picks up the phone, his hands shaking and the free one clutching uselessly at the sheets as he answers the questions being thrown at him - yes, this is Mr. Anderson-Hummel. Yes, he did know someone that went by the name of Blaine. Yes, that was his car being described.

His hearing began to fluctuate between the news anchor and the person on the other end of the phone as he listened for details on what was going on.

"_...Breaking news just in: there's been an accident reported..._"

"_**...At eleven seventeen pm this evening we received a distressed call from a member of the public...**_"

"_...There's not much that we're able to tell you about what happened, but what we can tell you is what happened - the victim..._"

"_**...A young male was found in the vehicle, appearing unconscious and bleeding heavily...**_"

"_...After his car lost control on the ice and swerved into the blockades, effectively crushing the driver and causing an instantaneous..._"

"_**...We can confirm that after further examination we were able to tell that he was gone almost at once, so he wasn't in much pain...**_"

"_...Information on the victim hasn't been released as of yet..._"

"_**...We need you to come down to the station and identify the body...**_"

"_...But when we get more information on what happened, we'll make sure that you're all the first to know..._"

"_**...We're sorry for your loss...**_"

Kurt placed the phone on the receiver, the words repeating themselves over and over again in his brain.

_No._

_This couldn't be happening_, he's thinking. _Those words weren't spoken. I didn't hear anything. Everything's alright. Everything's going to be okay._

And then his eyesight becomes blurry and the tears are streaming down his face before he can even think of stopping it, and it feels he's being enveloped by a pair of strong, familair arms as they hold him in a way that screams that they never want to let go. His senses are on fire, the smell of cinnamon and sandalwood scorching and licking every inch of his body and everything around him slowly crumbles away from his smudging sight. Then there was the feeling of a hand clutching his heart, it's beats slowly _thumpthumpthumping_ at a regular pace, until the pressure began to increase and the thumping began to fluctuate at various speeds and everything just _fucking hurts_. The pain won't stop and there's nothing he can do.

_Thumpthump thumpthump_.

Nothing.

_Thumpthump_.

He just feels broken.

_Thump._

He feels _**nothing**_.

* * *

== x ==

v.

The service was a simple one. Readings from friends and family that end in wailing, the viewing that ends with condolences and various memories he may have had with them. Many people turn out - those he knows, like the Warbler's and Mark fucking Stone, and those that he doesn't, like his own family and childhood friends. When it does come to his turn, however, he notices something different. His reading didn't end in tears, or with any inhumane noise leaving his lips, and as he viewed his husband's corpse (bruises that would never heal; thick cuts that will never scab; intoxicating hazel eyes that will never see daylight again; nimble fingers that will never run through his unruly hair, or help give Kurt the most relaxing back rub he will ever (never) have; lips that will never stretch into that heart stopping smile; a body that will no longer live) he fixed the suit that he got married in (his tie was askew, lapels of the blazer sticking up) and mumbled his apologies.

And now he's watching as the casket gets lowered into the ground, hand absentmindedly twisting the wedding ring on his finger around in circles and breathing in the despair that hangs thickly in the air. Choked sobs and heart-wrenching cries are all that can be heard as it finally sinks in - Blaine Anderson-Hummel is now a headstone in the ground.

Kurt observes the guests as they leave, a few slapping their hands on his back as if to say "I'm sorry this is happening to you." and a few mumbling their apologies as if to say "You could have stopped this - look what you've done."

Everything's still as the smell of damp earth floods his senses and the only sounds that can be heard are nearby trees rustling in the wind and the sounds of shovels coating his husband in dirt. He's still there when they finish the job, moving away in silence to the next burial. He only looks up when the sun is beginning to set, light cascading over the mound of earth before him in a way that tells Kurt that he's finally gone now.

He walks towards the gravestone at a slow pace, a hand outstretched to touch the final resting place of his husband, fingers lightly touching the words engraved in the marble.

_Blaine Michael Anderson-Hummel  
Beloved Son, Husband and Friend._

_The Ones That Love Us Never Truly Leave Us_

_**You'll Be Young Forever.**_

A smile graced Kurt's face for the first time that day at the final words, humming their song lightly under his breath while pulling out a singular red rose from the inside of his jacket and placing it in the soil before standing up and thrusting his hands into his pockets, the smile falling off his face.

"I love you. So much. Even though you're gone, I will never forget you. How can I? I mean, I'm the main reason you're gone, right? Everyone knows it. If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't have felt the need to go out and get yourself killed."

Kurt took a deep breath, glancing between the gravestone and the dirt, the corners of his mouth turning up as if someone had told him a mildly amusing joke.

"You would have told me to stop thinking like that by now. I'm just.. I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry that I didn't stop you, and... I'm not even sure anymore. I don't think I can ever stop loving you. You're stuck with me until... well, not until the day you die. That's kind of impossible now. You're stuck with me until the day I die. Maybe even after that."

Another long pause was taken before Kurt could speak again, and even then he couldn't speak everything he wanted to say.

"I'm not in the right state of mind to say what I want to say. So, someday in the future, I'll come back, and I'll tell you everything, okay?"

Kurt began to unconsciously gnaw at his lip, breath shuddering and coming out in short spurts. "I'll see you around, Blaine."

And with a singular tear rolling down his cheek, Kurt Anderson-Hummel turned his back on his husband and walked away.

* * *

== x ==

**10 Years Later**

== x ==

i.

"Hey, it's me. Again. I know, I know - it's been a while, right? Well, like I told you ten years ago... I told you that the next time I come back I would tell you everything. I was so tempted to come back every year - no, every _day_ - and just sit and talk to you, but then I realised... you wouldn't be there to tell me to relax, or to give me advice on what I should wear, and it seemed kind of useless, you know? Maybe not anymore, but back then... it hurt too much.

"Where do I start? I'm still living in the house. It seems empty at times, like you should be in the kitchen creating the Sunday roast or on the TV watching the football while I lie on your lap and continue creating fashion designs. But then Finn would come along with Rachel and Ellie - you don't know about Ellie... God, Blaine, I wish you could meet her. She's the vision of her mother and her father, you can tell its their offspring from a mile away. Brown curls that reach halfway down her back, entrancing greeny-brown eyes and a button nose... she's gorgeous. Sometimes I think... if we did go through with our plans of having a child before you passed away, it would look exactly like her, you know? She's smart for her age, too. Kinda like yourself...

"I'm not alone, but it does feel like it sometimes. No one gets me like you got me - we could have conversations for hours about the latest fashion trends, and I can hardly keep one up with Mercedes for five minutes - she says hey, by the way - and then every time I go to order coffee I always order one for you. Automatically. I can't help myself. Then I'm sitting there looking like an absolute plonker with two freakin' coffees. Sometimes I add in lots of cinnamon to the medium drip, just because I know you would still take it like that. Then there are times where I'll remember all the things that happened between the two of us over coffee, and believe me, there are a hell of a lot more than I can remember. Like, remember the time when we watched that Barista - Pam, I think was her name - completely tear down a customer after he complained that his frappuccino was too cold? Or those months we spent watching this guy and girl fall in love? Yeah, that was pretty cute. It makes me wonder how other people saw us fall in love, too. It gets me curious. Another thing that gets me curious is what you were so desperate to get for me - the thing that caused this whole mess. I should probably hate myself for being the cause of your death...

"Okay, it's still too soon. Hmm. Hmm Hmm Hmm. Oh, that's another thing I find myself doing often, too - humming _our_ song to myself. You know, I'll be washing the dishes and I'll start talking about putting hands on skin-tight jeans. Once I even walked around the supermarket looking for milk and I started singing about no regrets, just love. And then I start thinking about that day in Dalton thirty years ago, and how it literally turned my life upside down. I wouldn't have it any other way, of course. I don't regret meeting you at all. You have given me so much... _courage_. So much hope for the future. You still do. I just look at my hand and I think of Eiffel Towers and Elvis impersonators and that one night in the honeymoon suite. It's forever on repeat in my head, I tell you. I'll start smiling uncontrollably and everyone will start asking what's wrong with me - why would me smiling be a step closer to my downfall? Am I not supposed to be happy? Do they want me to mourn forever?

"Ahh, yes. You'll never guess who I ran into a few years ago - Mark. Fucking. Stone. I know, I know. We talked over coffee about... about you. It's the only thing we had in common before we realised our adoration of broadway and theatre. He tried to ask me out for drinks too, but I had to turn him down. I'm getting a bit old for dating, I think, and then there's always you. I can live with you for the rest of my life - just because you're six feet under and no longer around to keep an eye on me doesn't mean I'm going to stray far away from out marriage agreement.

"...I should probably stop making death jokes right now. It's my only way of coping, I guess. Like, by putting humour into the situation, It can be better, and I can smile without feeling guilty and I can cry on the spot for a reason. I just miss you, so much. I miss how you could make my day better by just being around, and how I could influence your decisions by nipping lightly at the skin under your ear. I miss your back rubs and your talent in the kitchen. I miss waking up beside you and falling asleep with your arms around me and your smell just constantly being there. I miss... I miss your curls. I miss your eyes. I miss your goddamn hands. Would it be weird if I also missed your height? Yeah, I guess it would be, but I miss that too. I miss having to lean down to capture your lips in a kiss, whether it's because you're just being adorable or just being so goddamn hot. The list of what I miss is long and never ending, so let's just come to the conclusion that I miss you. You're my teenage dream. You're still my teenage dream. I think it's safe to say you're _always_ going to be my teenage dream.

"I'm thinking about making this visits a common occurrence - you know, I pop down once every few months to talk to you about whatever comes to my mind and you can just listen... somehow. I've missed this, you know? Being able to talk to you about anything and everything without you judging me. It's been a long decade. It's been a long thirty years. And here's to another thirty... if you'll still have me, that is."

A man with light ash brown hair stands up, brushing the dirt off his pants as he simultaneously makes his way towards the headstone. He presses his lips to it once, a fond smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he strokes the gravestone one, two, three times.

"I'll see you later, Blaine. I love you so much."

This time as he walks away, a smile graces his face and no tears are threatening to fall as he hums their song under his breath, his thoughts running wild.

_"You and I; **We'll be young forever.**"_

Life passes by too quickly to be young forever, he thinks; everything ages and grows older and dies and even when they're both six feet under everything will continue on like nothing happened - the only memories that remain will be tales of the days that never came.

* * *

**Thanks for reading - Constructive Criticism would be fantastic!  
(Edit: I managed to fix the format of it. I hope it doesn't all italicise now.)**

_**Next: Better Than Revenge by Taylor Swift.**_


	7. Better Than Revenge

**I'm pretty sure the formatting on this site hates me. Bleugh. But I come bearing a new one-shot! (Hoorah! Yay!)**

**For some reason, I always imagined Kurt singing this to Rachel during a ND Glee rehearsal, but then as I began to type out that scenario, I realised that Kurt wasn't back at McKinley yet. So I scrapped that location and finally thought of a new one. I hope this one works out, haha.**

**Set during Blame it on the Alcohol, takes place sometime after the Hummelberry chat after Raine's date (if that makes any sense.) Enjoy!**

* * *

**Title:** Better Than Revenge  
**Rating:** K+  
**Summary:** A stage is the perfect place to let everything out, and Kurt sure as hell wasn't going to pass up the opportunity, especially when it's a Karaoke party. Set in BIOTA.

* * *

A Few of my Favourite Things  
**vii.**

== x ==

{**Better Than Revenge** - Taylor Swift  
_Speak Now, 2010_.}

== x ==

In all honesty, Kurt had absolutely _no_ idea what he was doing here.

It was supposed to be some kind of New Directions gathering, and he had been called 'The Guest of Honor' as he stepped into Rachel's basement for the second time that week behind a stumbling Finn Hudson. Everyone was there, talking and chatting about the events that took place that week (including the 'Rachel Berry Train Wreck House Party Extravaganza', much to Kurt's chagrin), and when the drinks began to flow and the unknown tension in the air began to disappear, the question that he was least looking forward to come up was asked.

"So, how was your date with Blaine?"

The predatory grin that spread across her face was unmistakable; His hands clenching around the glass of Diet Coke at the soft intake of breath was conspicuous. Glasz eyes kept themselves trained on the melting ice in an attempt to stop himself from glaring at one overexcited, bubbly, irritating-as-hell Rachel Barbra Berry seated directly across from him, wishing that instead of making the ice liquidise he could scorch her until she was nothing more than a minuscule pile of dust on the seat. And although he tried to stop listening to her constant gushing of his best-friend-slash-crush, he couldn't help up over hear some of the things she was telling the girls, all of them entranced by her story.

"...He was the perfect gentleman! He closed the car door behind me, paid for the food, helped me out of my jacket - he was _mesmerising_..."

Kurt had never wanted to yell "Tell me something I don't know" louder.

Their conversation continued on past the beginning of the Karaoke 'party', only stopping after a tipsy Mercedes demanded that she's next to sing (Kurt realised soon after that Puck - with the help of Artie - had managed to sneak in a few bottles of Vodka and had spent most of the evening pouring some of the strong liquid into the glasses of his fellow, unsuspecting Glee clubbers, but only after he had managed to stop Puck from tainting his own drink.) and Kurt couldn't ignore the rather unsubtle glances that Rachel had been throwing at him as he made small talk around the table. It was like she was communicating to him - _He's all mine; he'll never be yours; __**you'll never be good enough for him**_- and suddenly all he could think about was taking the slice of humble pie Rachel was offering him and smashing it against her face.

The clock struck eight, and the members of New Directions were either slightly tipsy or on the verge of being completely hammered, going up to the Karaoke machine in groups or by themselves, and Kurt, being the only one stone cold sober, was sitting back and monitoring his friends behaviour - Tina and Mercedes cackling loudly in the corner at something Brittany had said; Mike and Artie discussing who were the best dancers in McKinley; Finn and Sam arm wrestling with an amused Quinn watching over them and 'keeping score'; Sam and Santana publicly displaying their affection in the best way they know how; Puck stumbling towards the stage with an amused Lauren watching him; Rachel talking on the phone to someone...

Wait,_ what?_

His gaze lingered over her slouched form, an animal sweater clinging to her figure, and he noticed how she curled a (bland) brown strand of hair around one (bony) finger and how her (thin) glossy lips breathed out slurred (dishonest) compliments and obnoxious (artificial) giggles.

It was when her eyes lit up, a (forced; unnatural; goddamn _theatrical_) laugh burst out of her and a question rang through the air ("How about that second date then?" _demanding and cruel and so so painful to watch_) that he couldn't take it anymore.

It wasn't fair how Rachel got everything he wanted - the guys, the solos and the sympathy to name a few - and just as something was within his reach, something attainable and perfect and _just right_ for him, she managed to grab a hold of that too, snatching it out of his way and adding it to her ever growing collection.

Kurt had had enough. He wanted it to get something for once, something that Rachel was never going to get.

He was upset, and instead of bottling it all up and wallowing in his own self pity, he was going to do what he always did when situations like this arose - because there's a stage, and Kurt sure as hell wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to sing, _especially_ when it's a Karaoke party.

So he waited (impatiently) for Puck's heart wrenching cover of Bloodhound Gang's "The Bad Touch" to finish before he made his way towards the stage, adrenaline pulsating through him and laugh being barked out when he found the perfect song, only a little bit shocked that an instrumental version had been created. The walk towards the microphone stand was short, but to Kurt it felt like an eternity before his hands wrapped themselves around the stand, a shaky breath exhaled and eyes searching out his target.

"_Now go stand in the corner and think about what you did."_

The countertenor felt the beats pour out from the speakers around him and the eyes of every member turn towards his direction, and another breath was taken before he continued on with the song, making sure that he kept eye contact with _her_.

"_The story starts when it was hot and it was summer and,  
I had it all - I had him right there where I wanted him.  
She came along, got him along, let's hear the applause;  
She took him faster than you can say 'Sabotage'."_

It took the receiver of the drunk call a few minutes to realise that Rachel had gone silent, and that the song that was blasting where she was currently sitting was being streamed through the phone, and when he recognised who was singing the awfully familiar tune he pressed the phone closer to his ear.

"_I never saw it coming, wouldn't have suspected it.  
I underestimated just who I was dealing with.  
She had to know that pain was beating on me like a drum -  
She underestimated just who she was stealing from._

"_She's not a saint, and she's not what you think;  
She's an actress, woah.  
And she's better known for the things that she does,  
On the mattress, woah.  
Soon she's gonna find stealing other people's toys,  
In the playground won't make you many friends.  
She should keep in mind, she should keep in mind,  
There is nothing I do better than revenge, ha!"_

He squeezed his eyes closed in a feeble attempt to get the looks of shock on everyone's faces out of his mind. He _needed_ to finish this song, to get get everything out of his system, and with that thought, he opened his eyes, (gleaming) glasz locking with (dull) brown, and began the second verse.

"_She lives her life like it's a party and she's on the list;  
She looks at me like I'm a trend and she's so over it.  
I think her ever present frown is a little troubling and,  
She thinks I'm psycho 'cause I like to rhyme her name with things, but..._

"_Sophistication isn't what you wear or who you know,  
Or pushing people down to get you where you want to go.  
Oh, they didn't teach you that in prep school so it's up to me,  
But no amount of vintage dresses gives you dignity."_

Kurt's stare turned into a glare, and he watched as her eyes widened with shock, a small smirk appearing on his face as he belted out the chorus for a second time.

"_She's not a saint, and she's not what you think;  
She's an actress, woah.  
And she's better known for the things that she does,  
On the mattress, woah.  
Soon she's gonna find stealing other people's toys,  
In the playground won't make you many friends.  
She should keep in mind, she should keep in mind,  
There is nothing I do better than revenge, ha!"_

"Oh my god." A voice mumbled from the other side of the call, mouth agape and eyes also wide. _This couldn't be Kurt_, he thought, listening as the countertenor started singing the bridge, _he wouldn't sing songs like this..._

Meanwhile, Kurt had his eyes open again and returned to glaring at the brunette, rolling his eyes at the appropriate places and smirking at the surprised faces of his old Glee club.

"_I'm just another thing for you to roll your eyes at, honey;  
You might have him, but haven't you heard?  
I'm just another thing for you to roll your eyes at, honey;  
You might have him, but I always get the last word.  
Woah!"_

He felt his hands grip onto the stand, beads of sweat clinging to his forehead and the same moisture slicking his palms. He felt every pair of eyes stare at him and the spotlight glare heavily above him. It felt _exhilarating_.

"_She's not a saint, and she's not what you think;  
She's an actress, woah.  
She's better known for the things that she does,  
On the mattress, woah.  
Soon she's gonna find stealing other people's toys,  
On the playground won't make you many friends;  
She should keep in mind, she should keep in mind,  
There is nothing I do better than revenge." _

Kurt felt himself put everything into this song - every insecurity he ever had; every insult he let roll off his back; every ice-cold slushie that had burst on his face and every shove that had landed him in a locker, painting his porcelain skin black and blue; every solo he didn't get and every "no" that was spat at him. Everything that made him frustrated and confused and feel as though he wasn't good enough - this was to them.

"_Do you still feel like, you know what you're doing?  
'Cause I don't think you do, oh.  
Do you still feel like, you know what you're doing?  
I don't think you do, I don't think you do."_

He growled the last lines, eyes returning their focus to Rachel, and he noticed that she still had that look on her face - that she didn't really understand what was going on, but that she was aware of how it focused mostly on her. He noticed that the phone in her hand was now further away from her ear and was unknowingly closer to where he was singing with all his heart and soul.

"_Let's hear the applause -  
C'mon, show me how much better you are.  
See, you deserve some applause,  
'Cause you're so much better._

"_She took him faster than you could say 'Sabotage'."_

As the song ended, Kurt's ears were met with silence, his chest heaving from the effort he had put into the impromptu performance and eyes wide with the realisation that he had _actually_ just done that and the chances of_ him_ hearing that through Rachel's phone were exceptionally high.

He walked off the stage, moving slowly towards his belongings at the back of the room. He was aware of the applause that was bouncing around him and the pats on the back from his old team mates. He was aware of how sweat was still seeping out of his pores and making his clothes stick to his skin. He was aware that he felt drained, down in the dumps and absolutely _disgusting_.

All he knew before was that he needed to get that out of his system.

All he knew now was that he wanted to go home before he embarrassed himself even further.

* * *

== x ==

**A few days later...**

== x ==

It didn't matter that his friend had just walked out the door, inspired to write songs by recent events. It didn't matter that it took a while to come back to his senses and pick up _his_ coffee and make his way back to where he was sitting previously. It didn't matter than when _he_ (finally) caught his attention a grin had bloomed across his face and his eyes had actually twinkled in excitement. It didn't matter than when a conversation had started between the two of them _he_ was the one to initiate it. It didn't matter. Not one bit.

Because they were talking to again and his fling with Rachel didn't turn into anything more and Blaine Anderson is _definitely_ one-hundred percent gay.

And for the first time in a week, the grin on Kurt's face was one-hundred percent genuine.

They spent the next hour catching up on things they normally would have discussed - the latest issue of Vogue, new gossip amongst the Warbler's (which included a lot of questioning about Wes and David's 'Bromance') and how well Pavarotti's doing - the conversation pulling to a stop when they realised they couldn't avoid the inevitable for too long.

"I missed you this week, you know." Blaine mumbled, hazel eyes looking up at Kurt from underneath those unbelievably long eyelashes as he paused to take a long sip of his medium drip and leaving the countertenor wondering how on earth he can scramble his brain that much with just one look.

Kurt blinked at his companion, gnawing absentmindedly at his lip in response, hands circling around the base of his mocha and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I missed you, too." A lengthy pause as the duo attempted to collect their thoughts. "It hasn't been the same talking to Pavarotti about my weekend."

The lead soloist gave a small chuckle, the corners of his mouth turning up into a small smile. "I know what you mean. I'm pretty sure Wes and David were sick of my whining after the first day."

Rolling his eyes, Kurt stifled the blush threatening to colour his cheeks, a hand moving to fix the scarf around his neck. The silence that fell over them was full of unspoken words that floated around the topic, the countertenor finally breaking the silence with a sigh and a sentence.

"I'm sorry, you know, for doubting you in the first place."

Blaine looked up from his coffee, eyebrows creased and lips pursed. "It really hurt when you first said it, but I guess I can understand where you're coming from." His gaze returned to his cooling drink, a hollow smile gracing his features. "I mean, aside from the bisexual comment (a wince from the other teen), that was kind of offensive, but..."

Kurt shook his head and placed his elbow on the table before leaning forward to rest his cheek against the palm of his hand. "No, there was no excuse for what I said." The teen shrugged his shoulders. "I guess it just had something to do with who was involved, that's all."

One of Blaine's eyebrows arched in confusion. "What, you mean Rachel?"

Nodding his head, Kurt's hands returned to the coffee container as he contemplated on what to say next. Blaine's head cocked to the side as he stared intently at his friend. "I thought you guys were friends."

"We are!" The tone in his voice increased in pitch, brow furrowing in thought as he began to figure out how to inform Blaine on his past with Rachel. "Well, we weren't before. It's just..."

The grip on his coffee strong as he chewed on his lip, noticing a hand rest lightly on top of his own and he looked up to see a pair of Hazel eyes meet his own. _Courage_, he thought, and then he started on his explanation.

"When Glee first started, I guess I just wanted to shine - I wanted to be recognised for my outstanding talents and to find a sanctuary away from the bullying. I... I wanted to be a part of a group. To feel included in something, you know? Everything was going well, until... well, until Rachel joined, I guessed.

"Rachel, as you know, is willing to do anything to be at the top. Do you know how hard it is to compete with that? It's practically impossible, because she's got the perfect vocal range and she's just really good at everything she does. And then there was the Defying Gravity diva-off I threw on purpose - I'll tell you about that some other time - which really hit me hard. And then there was Finn - I'll have to tell you about that another time, too - who she got, too. It felt like everyone was in love with her, basically.

"I guess you could say I was - that I _am_ - jealous: she gets the guys, she gets the solos, she gets everyone throwing themselves at her feet. I've never had that effect on anyone, because most guys run away from me. And then I met you - you wanted to hang out with me, you wanted to get to know me better, we understand each other more than anyone else because of the experiences we've been through and our mutual understandings.

"Then last week happened. I thought that because of your... our sexual orientation, that nothing like that could happen. But there she was, taking away the most important thing I've come across in a long time. The most important person in my life, who has practically saved me from doing so many things I would have probably regretted, and he suddenly gets taken away from me a few drinks, kisses and duets later. It hurt me, a lot."

There was a pregnant pause, Blaine squeezing Kurt's hands reassuringly and Kurt trying to fight the tears.

"You - you're so important to me, Blaine. You mean so much to me. And you were nearly taken away from me by the one person who's always there, taking and taking and taking until I have nothing left. I mean, I know it's incredibly selfish of me and I feel like an absolute idiot for thinking like that, but... I didn't want to lose you."

Blaine blinked at Kurt, watching the younger teen try to calm himself down before getting up from his seat and walking towards the countertenor, pulling him towards his chest and holding him there for a few minutes.

Kurt felt himself freeze up in shock, but he managed to respond after a few minutes, hesitantly wrapping his arms around Blaine's waist as the older Warbler began to speak.

"You don't need to feel like that," he began quietly, resting his head atop of Kurt's, "because I'm not going away. Not for a very long time, anyway. I'll be here for as long as you need me, alright?"

Kurt nodded in response, his heart deflating when Blaine pulled away and returned to his seat, sending the countertenor one of his heart stopping smiles.

"And anyway, I don't think I'll be going back to her." Blaine brought the coffee to his lips, taking a long drag of it before setting it down and winking at Kurt. "I'm pretty sure that I'm gay after today's debacle."

He rolled his eyes in response, sipping at his coffee and grimacing when he realised the change in temperature.

There was a comfortable silence as the two ran over what had been said previously, causing Blaine to suddenly gasp in realisation. Kurt looked over, arching one delicate eyebrow in his general direction.

"That explains the song you sang the other night, right?"

Kurt groaned, resting his head on the table. "I _thought_ that was you on the phone." he said, speech muffled by his current position. Blaine let out a chuckle, reaching over to ruffle the younger teen's hair lightly before sitting back down, ignoring his glare.

"You know, I never pegged you as the Taylor Swift type." he stated, staring at Kurt intently.

Kurt lifted his head off the table and crossed his arms, resting his chin on his forearm. "Neither did I. It just seemed to fit, I guess."

The lead soloist hummed in agreement, only beginning to notice that his coffee was no longer warm. "You sounded good though, with all that passion and enthusiasm, but whatever floats your boat."

Another eye roll and an exasperated sigh. "Too right. The H.M.S Hummel floats for no one but me. It's main fuel is human emotions."

"And I'm guessing that's why you've come to Dalton - to lure more victims and collect their feelings so you can go on your merry way?"

"Oh, Blaine... You know me so well."

* * *

**Gah, the ending was kinda rushed. I hope it was alright, haha.**

_**Next: In The Water I Am Beautiful - City and Colour.**_


	8. In The Water I Am Beautiful

**So this site ****isn't allowing me to reply to reviews, which really sucks, but thanks to everyone who's left one in the past few days, as well as those who have favourited/alerted this thing.**

**Here's a combination of Fluff and Angst. Again. 'New York' made it impossible to not want to write fluff. ALSO, just to let everyone know, this has nothing to do with 'New York'. (I loved how they FINALLY told each other, but this one-shot was already in the process and nearly finished when it aired, just in case someone's expecting coffee-hued klisses.) Thanks so much to Erin for helping me come up with the fourteen reasons. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Title:** In The Water I Am Beautiful  
**Rating:** T (For language, fluff and angst. Isn't this always the way?)  
**Summary:** Blaine's always had trouble with the words "I love you". All it takes is his significant other to fix that problem.

* * *

A Few of my Favourite Things  
**viii.**

== x ==

"_And when you ask, "Do you love me?"  
__I should reply with "Yes, most certainly."  
__But I always hesitate, there's something lingering,  
__And I will try harder to be all that I can be..._

"_These words might be, too little too late,  
__And I'm afraid that I have already lost you.  
__Now three months equals eternity, and this will be so hard,  
__And I will long to hold you in my arms."_

{**In The Water I Am Beautiful** - City and Colour  
_"Sometimes", 2005_}

== x ==

It all began when he was five.

He was immersed in the story his mother was reading to him, sighing at all the right places and grinning when the prince comes along to save the day, so when it ended and he was tucked into bed, his curiosity got the better of him.

"Mommy, why did the prince save the princess?" he asks quietly, hazel eyes staring unblinkingly at the woman above him. A smile stretched across her as she handed the toddler a dark brown teddy bear.

"Because he loved her, sweetie." she replied with a tone doused with sugar, hands smoothing the creases of the duvet below her.

Blaine felt a smile appear on his face as he asked the next question. "Do you think a prince will come for me some day?"

"Of course, sweetheart!" she began, finally moving her hands away from the duvet and clasped them together. "Well, you won't get a prince - you'll get a princess, and _you'll_ be the one saving _her_."

The toddler frowned, holding his beloved bear closer. "Well,_ that_ doesn't seem fair. Why do the boys have to save the girls? Why can't girls save girls and boys save boys?"

She rolled her eyes. "Because it doesn't work like that. Now, it's time for you to get some sleep." His mother stood up from her seat, making her way towards the door and resting a hand over the light switch. "Night night, sleep tight - don't let the bed bugs bite!"

Her hands flicked the switch, Blaine whining when darkness poured into the room and only becoming quiet when the night light beside his bed turned on. The older woman smiled, hand moving to the doorknob and feet leading her out the door. She was just about to close it behind her when a small voice, thick with sleep, began to speak to her.

"Mommy, did daddy save you when you were a princess?"

She turned her face away from the younger boy in an effort to hide her facial expression. Silence fell over the two of them as one awaited an answer and the other contemplated on how to respond to a five year old.

"Yes. He did." A pause. "A very, very long time ago," she finally replied, voice cracking towards the end, and then he was coated in darkness.

That was when everything changed for Blaine - his father demanded that his mother stopped _reading those retched books to their boy, because he was a growing man and those faggy stories would give him the wrong impressions_; school was the place he least wanted to be, the boys tormenting him for his love of Disney films and lack of interest in sports; his petite figure and slight height made him popular amongst the bullies which in turn taught him a new rhyme - _Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me._

(What a fucking lie.)

Blaine was hoping that by High School, everything would be alright. That everyone would see him as someone (anyone) else, other than "that short guy who likes Disney and squeals like a girl". That he would actually have friends, and there would be people who liked him.

He was wrong.

The first two years were excruciating to go through: being pushed into lockers every time he walked past the jocks, the snide remarks being thrown at him and the glares he received in the changing rooms after gym class. Then one thing came along towards the end, one thing that made him smile and helped him get through the day - _love_.

And love didn't come in the form a prince: it came in the form of closet-case Samuel Johnston, the jock Blaine was paired with for an English project. Each day they went back to his house, and each day their connection grew 'stronger' with more lingering touches, more subtle glances, more of everything that was lacking before, and then they both snapped, time spent at his house going from one-hundred percent project to twenty-seven percent project and seventy-three percent experimenting. Blaine wanted to let everyone know about them, but Sam wanted to protect his image and _coming out with some guy is going to _ruin_ my entire life_. So Blaine kept quiet, thinking that _hey, you would do anything for the person you love_ because he knew it was love, and was it such a bad thing that he wanted to yell it out on rooftops so everyone can hear, that no matter what they did to him, nothing would change that?

He hadn't told Sam how he felt, and he remembers the day that he was absolutely determined to tell his project partner how he had fallen head-over-heels for him (and _nothing_ was going to stop him). He remembers how he was bouncing towards his car, where Sam would be waiting for him with those large grey eyes and cropped dirty blond hair, but instead he was met with a crowd of guys in his gym class circling around him and tell him that he should stop trying to recruit Sam to "Team Gay" and back the hell away. He waited with baited breath for the jock to step forward and defend him, to say that they weren't even doing anything and they should back the hell away and leave them alone, but instead of remorse or sympathy he saw _hatred_ and _disgust_ swirling in those metallic eyes of his, his jaw clenched and hands curling into fists by his sides.

He tries to hold back his tears as Sam fist connects with his left eye.

Then he's sitting in hospital numerous hours later, flesh bruised like an apple past its sell by date and humiliation clinging desperately to his every thought, and his mother suggests moving him to a private school so he doesn't have to go through that ever again (and a small smirk appears on his face as his mother ignores his father's statement that _he just needs to man up and stand up for himself_). He never sees his old school again, but he can't help shake off the thoughts that he's run away from his problems, and it becomes his only regret.

(Because falling in love was just one big mistake.)

When Blaine arrives at Dalton Academy, he's already questioning everything he thought about love. Love, he realises, is a lot of hard work - it takes patience and time and energy and it's never worked in the past, not for him. The term, 'Love' - _noun: an intense feeling of deep affection. Verb: Feel a deep romantic or sexual attachment to (someone)._ _**Adjective: Lie used to get the receiver to do whatever the hell they want without asking**_ - was used previously to make him change who he was; it was used to torment him and fill him up with so much dread that it kept him from sleeping peacefully at night; to keep himself living a lie with how perfect everything around him was when, in actual fact, it was just falling to shit.

He didn't want to put anyone else through that.

And wasn't liking something just enough? He liked the Warblers. He liked his friends. He liked his family... sometimes. He just liked everything. Liking didn't cause any harm. Liking was good.

Then Kurt Hummel comes strutting into his life - all long legs and porcelain skin; flushed cheeks and jewelled eyes - and his boundaries between like and love were being tested. The way he shows 'love' is aesthetically pleasing to the Warbler - like worrying when Blaine doesn't answer his calls, or when he has a bad night's sleep and looks like he's risen from the dead - and when they begin going out (because he does like Kurt, he likes him a hell of a lot) he's there to hold his hand when he gets afraid and kiss away all of his anxieties.

They leave school together, applying at the same colleges and moving into the same apartment and Blaine hasn't been this happy in_ years_. He's living the life he's always wanted, with passion filled nights and lust filled mornings, and when he's not concentrating on school or work he can spend his free time with his boyfriend (yes, boyfriend, because 'engagement' involves 'marriage' and 'marriage' involves 'love', and Blaine knows how _that's_ turned out in the past). He hears Kurt's confessions of love when he thinks Blaine can't hear him, and he's got that feeling again (the butterflies fluttering impatiently around his gut, head in the clouds when he thinks about their (inevitable) future and the unmistakable twinkle appears in the corner of his eye when Kurt mumbles those three words he dreads so much) and the word begins to make so much more _sense_.

(But Blaine's refusing to admit it, and he's sure that Kurt's noticing by now - nodding and humming in agreement won't cut it anymore, especially when he says "lo-_like_" all the goddamn time. His time is running out, and he's clinging onto everything he's got.)

* * *

It's their fifth anniversary when everything changes.

Everything was going swimmingly, too. They ate out for dinner, exchanging gifts (and kisses and glances and touches, but who was counting?) and spending the entire day grinning about what was (supposedly) going to happen that night. It felt as if nothing could bring them down, and that everything was going to be okay.

All it took was a moan (breathless; high pitched; could also be mistaken as a goddamn _whine_) as their mouths became infused and tongues clumsily twisted together to crack the silence and let those _stupid_ words ruin _everything_ in his life _again_.

"I love you."

_Shit._

He watched as his other half pulled away with wide, expectant eyes and hands squeezing his shoulders in anticipation. Blaine closed his eyes, brow crumpling and lips pursing in regret because he can't bring himself to reply.

There's an obnoxious sigh from above him, and the weight that was previously there is now gone, the sound of shoes _taptaptapping_ away from him began lacking in tone and increasing in pitch mixing with the sound of the shorter male groaning in frustration (and he isn't exactly sure _why_). Blaine sits up, head falling into waiting hands at the same time his feet meet the hardwood floor of their living room, the noise of Kurt rummaging through their bedroom echoing dimly around their apartment. _He just needs a few minutes to calm down, that's all. Everything will be okay. Nothing will change..._

He hears the padding of feet make its way towards him, followed closely by the sound of someone crouching in front of him and the feeling of hands wrapping themselves lightly around his wrists. Blaine watched as his vision cleared, and instead of his gaze being fixed on a blurred darkness his eyes fell upon glasz, and all he could think was how the greens and blues were swirling together, browns appearing in small dots around the pupil and _wow, that looks oddly like that nightlight I had when I was younger_.

"Hi." Kurt whispers, smile stretched across his face and eyes glistening with confusion. Blaine feels the corners of his mouth lift up into a small smirk in return.

"Hey."

The silence that envelopes them is humming with activity - tension buzzes lightly in the air, unsaid words flittering around and emotions fluctuating. It's a few moments later when Kurt blurts out what's on his mind.

"Do you love me?"

Blaine can feel his eyes widen, the realisation that this question is actually being asked and he has no idea how to say everything without ruining what they have slapping him in the face, but Kurt's already talking before Blaine can even explain to the countertenor what's been on his mind since he was a toddler.

"Because, I love you - I love you so much it hurts sometimes, but all I want to do is love and be loved in return and I… I don't know if I'm getting that here. With you."

The silence that follows this is palpable, and the only thing he can hear is Kurt's breathing (laboured, rough, trying to keep his emotions in check) and his own heart beating irregularly (because he knew this all along, why does it hurt so much?).

"There's only one thing I need – need you to do... before I decide what to do next..."

A pause, glasz and hazel eyes filling up with unshed tears.

"Tell me to my face - tell me that you love me."

And Blaine's opening and closing his mouth repeatedly, trying to say the words without screwing up somehow, but then his throat becomes dry and a lump forms, words unable to squeeze past and let themselves be heard, no matter how hard he tries.

And then those glorious glasz eyes are clouding over with pent up emotion and moving _up, down, up, down_ in a stiff nodding motion. They're moving further away from him, until he's met with the sight of his lover's knees, and even they're moving swiftly away from him, too. He looks up, eyes trained on Kurt's retreating back, and just as he's about to stand up to follow him he's speaking.

"I think it's time that… we ended this… whatever the hell this is. I can't just keep on living like this." The pause there caused tremors to break out throughout Blaine's body at a fluctuating pace, Kurt turning around to face him with eyes hollow and drained of emotion. "I'll be back tomorrow to get my suitcase for my three month internship," and he can feel all the blood drain from his face because _oh shit, he had completely forgotten about that_, "and then I'll be out of your hair. No longer a burden to you, I guess."

Blaine felt himself frown at Kurt's word (because he was overthinking again, and this didn't bode well for either of them) and just as he was about to try and stand up again and at least get within touching distance his (ex?)boyfriend was interrupting him.

"Well, I can understand why you did it – it's better to pretend to love someone than be alone… I just… didn't expect it from you." (the tears are trailing slowly down both their cheeks, and he just wants to curl up and forget the world exists because he's such a horrible person for doing this to someone as amazing as him.)

He tries to stay calm as Kurt walks slowly towards him, an overnight back being held in one hand and the other reaching out to cup the side of Blaine's face and (fuck, fuck, don't cry, don't cry) he pressed a lingering kiss to the top of his head, mumbling a quick "I love you" (and now he's just turning into a quivering mess and it feels like someone's grabbed his heart and is now stamping on it over and over and over again and they just won't fucking stop) and then _he's_ suddenly standing by the door, one (shaking) hand on the handle and a shaky (unsure) smile on his face.

"I'll see you around, Blaine."

The slam of a door. The ticking and tocking of a clock in the distance. A heavy sigh and the groan of leather as Blaine sits back on the sofa. A sigh of frustration. A drawn out sniff and a groan.

(And this is what 'love' does. It just fucks you over when you least expect it, and there's nothing you can do to fix it when it's shattered all over your hardwood floor.)

* * *

**From: **Blaine (Email)  
**To: **Kurt (Email)  
**Subject: **Hi.  
**Sent: **February 2nd, 19:19.

So if I'm not mistaken and I_ have_, in fact, remembered your flight information correctly, you should be on the plane now. I'm sending this to you now with the hope that when you read this – if you even open up the email – that you'll forgive me for what I did. It was stupid of me, and I should have told you earlier about my… dislike for those words. It's something that I thought wouldn't come up, I guess. Wait, no. That doesn't really make any sense. I knew it was coming up, it was practically inevitable that it was going to come up, but I wasn't expecting it to be_ that_ soon. Which is stupid. I'm surprised that it didn't come up earlier, actually.

If you'll excuse my rambling, I'll try and explain to you why I'm like this. I mean, it's only three words. It's only eight letters. Yet if I speak them out loud, I'm afraid that time will stop and the world will implode… stupid, right? I know, I'm aware of how idiotic it sounds. They don't do any harm – well, actually, they do. They do a hell of a lot of harm. To me, anyway.

Growing up in my house wasn't easy. The only way you could get love was by following the family's strict regime – be amazing at everything you do, stick to each gender's various stereotypes and don't ask to many questions. And what did I do? None of the above. I was awful at sports and fantastic at colour schemes. I was always wanting my mother to read me stories about castles and dragons keeping a princess from the prince who was going to save her no matter what, and my father hated that. He hated that I would rather be a Disney princess than a soccer star. Sure, he still kept telling business men and relatives that I was his son, but he never showed me any compassion. It was almost as if I was more of a burden than a son, and he finally gave up on loving me after the car building fiasco seven years ago. My mother loved me, I guess, but she didn't love me as much as she did when I was a child. My siblings were shining and perfect and pretty much flawless, and there I was, a diamond hidden in the rough and refusing to be found. My family showed me that I had to deserve love by working hard and following the standards, but that just isn't who I am.

Then there was high school… my old one, not Dalton. I was getting teased mercilessly by all my classmates and I was finally getting used to it when Sam came along. Samuel Johnston, the most popular boy in school, happened to be paired with me, Blaine Anderson, the school's local class A loser, for an English project. Everything was good for a while, because while we were working together I realised that I liked him more than anyone else I had ever known before in my life. We ended up… together, if that's what you want to call it. When we weren't working we were 'experimenting' and it was _amazing_. Then I thought… wow, I really do love this kid, don't I? But then love decided to bite me in the ass when Sam got all of his friends to beat me up when he found out I liked him as more than a friend. Sam taught me that love was used to lead people on and humiliate them when they felt invincible and it just wasn't worth all the hard work that was supposed to be put into making it 'incredible' and all those other cliché's used.

My family moved me to Dalton, much to my father's chagrin, and when I arrived there I was broken goods – I was cracked from working to be perfect and useless from too much abuse. Like those porcelain dolls you get, except I was unrepairable and worthless. Love, as I concluded, was used to tear you apart and I was tired of trying to make the impossible possible. I settled for liking instead – liking had always worked for me, you know? Everything I liked went well, and when everyone liked me they realised that I was actually 'alright'. Blaine plus like equals bliss. Blaine plus love equals catastrophe. And that was the way it was supposed to be. I couldn't do that to another person – liking was _good_.

Then you arrived while I was healing, and everything changed for me, because my assumptions on love were being proved wrong and it left me feeling… uneasy. It made me want to tear my hair out and scream because everything was confusing as hell. I would tell Wes and David about how I felt for you and they would say "It's love, man" and I would yell at them it wasn't, because love was used for only bad things and liking was used for good things and good things only. I didn't understand… I _still_ don't understand. I only knew that when we started going out that I liked you, a lot. And that was good enough. No questions would be asked.

The past five years have been amazing – I wouldn't take them back. I think that with you away… it'll give me time to think, you know? About what we had. I'll do more research and I'll get back to you, because I liked what we had and you were showing me a different type of love – a love where you're accepted for being who you are and instead of being used for someone's entertainment you're used to show how lucky you are, lucky that someone who's a hundred times better than you could ever be has chosen you out of everyone else. That someone out there can appreciate all your quirks. Hopefully I won't take too long.

I'll miss you when you're gone. Hopefully I can resolve the situation we're going through. Have fun!

-Blaine.

* * *

**From: **Blaine (Email)  
**To: **Kurt (Email)  
**Subject: **Happy Valentine's Day!  
**Sent: **February 14th, 14:12.

I woke up this morning to the realisation that the smell of you is beginning to fade from our room, and I decided to send you a message to remind myself that you're real. I hope you enjoy today – you deserve all the enjoyment in the world.

-Blaine

P.S.: I still have a Valentine's gift that I bought for you. I was planning on giving it to you towards the end of our anniversary night, actually. I'll give it to you when you return… if you want it, that is.

* * *

**From: **Blaine (Email)  
**To: **Kurt (Email)  
**Subject: **Two months left!  
**Sent: **March 4th, 17:34.

This month has been an absolute pain to get through. Mostly because you're not around anymore, but the workload at my job has increased. I know you kept on telling me to quit, that I'm so much better than a desk job, but it's money, and money is a good thing to have. I like it.

Update on the 'Love' problem – I'm slowly coming to terms with it, and I think I can understand that love isn't as bad as I thought it was. I don't think I can face my parents yet, but I've finally figured out that my 'fling' with Sam wasn't as serious as I thought it was. I was young, and he was the first guy to finally find me interesting, so I took the implications and ran with them. It was stupid of me to let that get to me in such a way. But, I'm quickly learning that love isn't that bad. It's kind of nice, I guess.

I think this will be the last email you receive from me for a while – you haven't been replying, and I'm guessing that you don't want to speak to me. I'll just say one last time that I'm sorry for everything. Hopefully we'll speak again, in person.

I miss you,

-Blaine.

* * *

**From: **Blaine (Email)  
**To: **Kurt (Email)  
**Subject: **Two Weeks - Day 1.  
**Sent: **April 21st, 17:34.

It's taken me two months and two weeks to realise that I had everything I wanted and I threw it all away because I couldn't speak those eight letters out loud. They've been taboo to me, for all these years, and I'm pretty sure that you've managed to break this curse that's been plaguing me for so long.

Where do I start? Well, I'm an idiot. I screw up a lot because of this tiny piece of information, and it has nothing to do with 'Love' or anything else. It's all because of me.

Second of all… I finally talked to my parents for the first time in five years. It was… well, it was awkward because they didn't understand my intentions, but when I finally told them everything – about you, and about my issues with love because of them – it was like everyone just snapped. My mother was sobbing, my father's face was flushed red with anger and the vein in his temple was literally pulsating as he yelled at me. He told me the things I already knew – that I was nothing, that it wasn't their fault that I was so screwed up, that I wasn't their son and I hadn't been for years – and I told them I didn't need anything else from them, because I loved you and that's all I would ever need.

I remember storming out from there in a rage and clambering into the car. It was only when I was sitting on the plane journey from Ohio to New York that three things hit me: I no longer had a family, I had managed to say words I've never been able to say before and that I was – am – head-over-heels in love with you.

So here I am, telling you what I should have told you all those years ago, over an email, because I am _incredibly_ classy like that: I love you, Kurt Hummel, and I've been in love with you for the five years. So for the next two weeks, until I meet you at the airport when you step off that plane, I'm going to be sending you (only) fourteen things I love about you. Even if you don't want them. So here we go:

Starting off simple - I love your smile. Everything about it. How it makes your eyes crinkle around the edges and those dimples on your cheeks appear. How it never fails to make me smile, too. How when I see that smile, I know everything's going to be okay.

I miss you.

Love,  
Blaine.

* * *

**From: **Blaine (Email)  
**To: **Kurt (Email)  
**Subject: **Day 2.  
**Sent: **April 22nd, 14:51.

I love how you always know the right thing to say, especially when I'm feeling down. Even when I'm not feeling down, actually. I miss the words of wisdom you would spit out at random intervals and the way you could make everything better just be telling me that I'm worth the world. Although, I'm pretty sure _you're_ worth so much more than one measly planet – I'm positive you're worth an entire galaxy.

Love,  
Blaine.

* * *

**From: **Blaine (Email)  
**To: **Kurt (Email)  
**Subject: **Day 3.  
**Sent: **April 23rd, 08:57.

I love how you constantly worry over your complexion, even though you have no need too. You'll always be beautiful to me, and no amount of moisturisers will change that. I miss waking up to you humming along to a random tune while applying creams and other expensive face creams. The apartment's been eerily quiet since you left.

Love,  
Blaine.

* * *

**From: **Blaine (Email)  
**To: **Kurt (Email)  
**Subject: **Day 4.  
**Sent:** April 24th, 10:12.

I love how you're always concerned about your health, too. Although, I don't know how eating one piece of bacon will give you pear hips. But the scowl you get on your face when I offer you a slice is adorable... and rather hot. You're not here anymore to tell me to lay off the carbs and embrace the healthy options, and I'm pretty sure that in twenty years' time I'll be calling you up and asking you to create me a new eating regime.

Love,  
Blaine.

* * *

**From: **Blaine (Email)  
**To: **Kurt (Email)  
**Subject: **Day 5.  
**Sent:** April 25th, 21:45.

I love how you're always so keen to look amazing, although you could probably walk around wearing a sack and still look gorgeous. Your outfits are still in the wardrobe – sorted out by brand, season and colour, of course – so you'll need to pick them up if you don't return.

Love,  
Blaine.

* * *

**From: **Blaine (Email)  
**To: **Kurt (Email)  
**Subject: **Day 6.  
**Sent: **April 26th, 19:08.

I love how talented you are - you can sing like someone who belongs on Broadway, cook like someone with at least two Michelin Stars and finish off everything you do with some sort of high class finesse. And then there are the moments where I join in - the singing part, not the cooking... you know what happened the _last_ time I tried to help you there - and we duet in the shower, or while we're walking around the supermarket. It's our thing, you know? I love that, too.

Love,  
Blaine.

* * *

**From: **Blaine (Email)  
**To: **Kurt (Email)  
**Subject: **Day 7.  
**Sent: **April 27th, 16:41.

Not only do you indulge on the most complicated of things, but you also adore the simple things, too. Like that one time where we were cuddling in my dorm room and the windows were open, and all we could hear and smell was the rain, then you turned around and told me that the rain was one of your favourite things. Then our movie nights - burrowed under the covers with our favourite movies playing on repeat – would be the only time you allowed yourself to eat foods you considered bad, saying it was your treat. I love that you're able to adore anything and everything, even if no one else cares.

Love,  
Blaine.

* * *

**From: **Blaine (Email)  
**To: **Kurt (Email)  
**Subject: **Day 8.  
**Sent: **April 28th, 06:06.

One of the things I miss, and love, the most about you is your eyes - I don't understand how you can think they're incredibly dull, because they're the most gorgeous things I have ever seen. They're this concoction of colour - all grey and blue and green with just a little bit of brown - and how your emotions can be shown through them. It's completely mesmerising. I never want to look away from them.

Love,  
Blaine.

* * *

**From: **Blaine (Email)  
**To: **Kurt (Email)  
**Subject: **Day 9.  
**Sent: **April 29th, 04:20.

I love your organisational skills. It sounds crazy, right? I never really thought about them until that morning you left and I was surrounded by your script in the form of post-it notes that you had left scattered around the house to remind us about something or to warn me about broken appliances - thanks for saving me from the coffee machine, by the way. Hopefully I'll be able to thank you in person.

Love,  
Blaine.

* * *

**From: **Blaine (Email)  
**To: **Kurt (Email)  
**Subject: **Day 10.  
**Sent: **April 30th, 23:38.

I love how you don't let anyone's attitude affect how you see the world - especially when someone critiques your outfits in a negative fashion. You just shrug them off, and then when they're not looking you allow your 'bitch face' (trademark, copyright, Kurt Hummel 2011. I'm kidding!... okay, I'm just a _little_ bit serious) to come out full force and you spend the rest of the day talking about how he's one to talk when sandals and socks are adorning his feet.

Love,  
Blaine.

* * *

**From: **Blaine (Email)  
**To: **Kurt (Email)  
**Subject: **Day 11.  
**Sent: **May 1st, 12:22.

Your hands are marvellous. To quote one Brittany S. Pierce, they're "soft, like a babies" and I used to hold them all the time, just to _feel_ them it. Which sounds a bit weird. But they're just nice to hold. They're nice to have stroking up your back or cupping around the back of your neck. They're skillful in more ways than one... if you get what I mean. Wow, I should stop making innuendos. Anyway, I'm pretty sure the first thing I'll do when I see you, if all other welcomes aren't allowed, is to hold them. Just one more time.

Love,  
Blaine.

* * *

**From: **Blaine (Email)  
**To: **Kurt (Email)  
**Subject: **Day 12.  
**Sent:** May 2nd, 13:10.

I love all those things you call "imperfections" – like the freckles scattered all over your body, or that scar on your neck. They're what make you_ you_, and they only add to the list of things that I find incredibly attractive about you. I hope you don't try to change anything you don't like about yourself when I'm not around.

Love,  
Blaine.

* * *

**From: **Blaine (Email)  
**To: **Kurt (Email)  
**Subject: **Day 13.  
**Sent:** May 3rd, 23:49.

I love how well we work together – like, how we manage to deal with each other's faults, like my lack of caring when it comes to leaving laundry around or your lack of caring when I stay up all night watching a football game. Then there's how everyone around us couldn't help but smile when we kissed, or when we're simply together for the world to see. I love how people got jealous, too. It seems like everyone wants what we had.

Love,  
Blaine.

* * *

**From: **Blaine (Email)  
**To: **Kurt (Email)  
**Subject: **Day 14.  
**Sent:** May 4th, 00:05.

So, I've finally reached the final day. The past two weeks have flown by because of this project. Because of you. This is going to be the longest paragraph(s) yet, so I hope you're ready.

I've only pinpointed some of the reason why I love you, but I just need you to know that I love _you_. Everything about you, from your tedious hair routine in the morning to how your toes curled when we kissed. I love how you were the first thing I woke up to in the morning and the last thing I saw at night before I went to sleep. I love how you found it in your heart to love me when I wasn't entirely sure that I loved you in return.

I love thinking about my future… with you. Which does have everything to do with why I love you, actually. Those five years were spectacular, and you've pretty much shown me how to love. You've shown me how love should be, and I don't think I can thank you enough for showing me the way. I think about us in five years' time, and I see us still together, in love and one-hundred percent sure of it this time. I'm sure we'll be happier – well, you'll be happier, at least, because either way you'll be loving someone who will love you in return, and I'm hoping that it's me… if you'll have me, that is.

I'm sending this at midnight as a warning – I'll be waiting for you at the airport when your flight lands, and I'll be standing there until you come out. I'll tell you that I love you and that I hope you can take me back, and that I hope you got my emails. Then I'll proceed to feel like an idiot for even sending these in the first place, but it will be worth it because now you know how I feel for you, and I know that I'm right this time around. Feel free to reply to this if you don't want to see me there, but if you don't I'll be waiting anyway. I just hope that I've done everything right.

I love you, and I hope to see you there.  
-Blaine.

* * *

If there's one thing Blaine knows about himself, it's about how impatient he is.

He woke up on the morning of the fourth of May after getting six hours sleep (having spent the majority of the morning sorting out what he was going to say and what he was going to wear, because they were _important_, and important things took a while to plan and _get right_) literally bouncing out of bed and into the shower, before changing and gulping down what must have been three to four cups of scalding hot coffee. Bounding out the door and into his car, he was on his way to the airport at 3pm – four and a half hours before Kurt's flight was even due to land.

When Blaine finally reached his destination at arrival gate, he realised that he was four hours early. With an irritated groan, he dragged himself towards the coffee shop situated in the airport and ordered himself the first of numerous Medium Drips, pulling out his phone to play a game and repeating the monologue he had prepared for the countertenor's return.

(He hoped this wasn't going to waste.)

Time flew by, and before he knew it, the clock had struck 7:30pm and a mechanical voice was calling out the number of the flight Kurt was on. He set down the ninth Medium Drip of the day on the table he was sitting at, stretching his arms and grunting in relief as he felt his limbs crack in approval. He slowly made his way towards the arrival gate, listening to the voice over tell him what was going on.

Blaine's hands made their way into the pockets of his jacket as he was told the flight had landed.

They both clenched as he heard the voice tell everyone arriving that their luggage will be with them in due course, left hand clutching a worn piece of paper with his speech scribbled on it and the other's knuckles lightly brushing over a velvet box.

He felt himself begin to shake from an adrenaline rush (the coffee finally taking effect, he mused) when a crowd of people dragging suitcases walked through the gate and made their way towards the exit behind him and he kept his eyes peeled, looking at everyone passing him in the hopes of finding someone with perfectly coiffed russet-brown hair and captivating glasz eyes, set in a porcelain shell with only the most fashionable of items adorning his slight figure.

The crowed thinned out at 7:50pm, becoming a slow trickle of people, and Blaine felt a frown pull down his features when he still couldn't find his target.

He felt his posture slump down and a hand come out of a pocket to rub at his forehead in frustration at 7:54pm when it looked like no one else was coming, and he grudgingly turned around to walk out of the airport.

He was nearly out the exit when he felt his phone vibrate in his jeans pocket, and when he pulled it out to look at the text he had just received he noticed the time turn to 7:56pm.

**From:** Unknown Number.  
**Sent:** May 4th, 19:56.

Turn around.  
_ _

A somewhat confused Blaine turned around, looking behind him to see a figure standing outside the arrival gate. His eyes widened as he took in the man's appearance – the hair was perfectly styled, eyes wide and one milky white hand gripping on the handle of a familiar suitcase, the other gripping a phone for dear life.

He started sprinting when he saw the black peacoat adorning the man's figure.

(It was Blaine's gift to Kurt on his Eighteenth birthday – he saw it when walking around town the week before, and he _had_ to buy it, and the price he had to pay was completely worth it for the look on his boyfriend's face – _of course_ he was going to recognise it.)

When he finally reached the figure, he looked at him for a few minutes to take in his appearance before wrapping his arms around their shoulders and crushing him against his chest. There was the sound of a suitcase thudding onto the polished floor below them and a hand throwing something into a pocket as a pair of arms wrapped themselves around his waist.

The duo stayed like that for a while, taking in each other's scent and fighting the need to pull away for just that little bit longer. Then Kurt was mumbling something into Blaine's shoulder, causing the older man to pull away so he could hear what was being heard.

"…then when I got there my phone died and I forgot to bring the charger, and I've been so busy that I haven't been able to buy a new one, but then I ended up losing my phone towards the end of the trip and I had to buy a new one. And I'm _so_ sorry I didn't get any of your emails – when I've been done for the day I've immediately returned to where I was staying and crashed, so I was only able to read it today when I arrived early for my flight. I can't believe I reacted the way I did, it was so stupid and selfish of me to say those things and I completely understand everything now, but it's alright if you – "

Rolling his eyes, Blaine lifted his face towards Kurt's and crashed his lips against the others, smiling into it when the other man let out a squeak of surprise and smirking when he pulled away and Kurt mewled lightly in response. The countertenor looked at him with confusion, causing the smirk on his face to become wider.

"You were rambling, love." He replied, noticing the other man's reaction to the words he had just spoken. _It's better now than never…_

"Kurt, I just want to apologise to you in person. I'm so sorry for the way I've acted towards you for the past five years – I've let personal issues get in front of what we are… well, were, and I don't think I can put into words how guilty I feel. But I've realised lately that I do reciprocate those feelings, I honestly think I have for a while, but I just needed to get out of this thing I was in." He took a deep breath, pausing to meet Kurt's unwavering gaze. "Kurt Hummel, I love you. I love you so much it hurts to breathe and it's kept me up almost every night for the past three months. I hope you've read all those other emails with the reasons why so I don't have to rhyme them off, but the point still stands – "

It was Kurt's turn to shut the other man up, lowering his head to place a small, chaste kiss on Blaine's lips and pulling away with a fond smile. "I think it should be me apologising for my response on our anniversary night. But!" Kurt raised a finger to stop Blaine from interrupting, a sheepish smile appearing on the older man's face as he took in the countertenor's facial expression. "How about we stop apologising for past mistakes, put everything behind us, and start afresh?"

Blaine looked at him, tapping a finger against his chin and humming in thought. "Well, I don't think that sounds so bad. Although, let's change the last part." Blaine put his arms around Kurt's neck again, a toothy grin appearing on his face. "Let's stop apologising for past mistakes, put everything behind us, and agree to be boyfriends again. Deal?"

Kurt grinned in response, the arms around Blaine's torso tightening slightly. "Deal." He mumbled, leaning forward to rest his head against Blaine's shoulder and sighing contently. The other man moved his head to rest atop the others, a smile gracing his face before he exclaimed in remembrance and pulled away from the embrace. Reaching into his pocket, his fingers managed to wrap themselves around the box, and as he pulled it into reach and knelt down on one knee, he watched Kurt's face go from confusion to shock. A shaking hand opened the box and an audible gasp was exclaimed from the countertenor as he took in the simple silver band. "Is that…"

"An engagement ring?" Blaine finished off the sentence with amusement, his voice quaking as he spoke, "Nope. I don't think I'm ready for that… not yet anyway. No, this is a _promise_ ring." He watched as his other half rolled his eyes playfully. "Yes, you're being proposed too like a high school-er. I decided to go for a promise ring, because this time I know what I'm going in to, and I'm prepared to stick with you in the end – even if we don't end up getting married or if we don't end up together in the end at all – I'll be with you the entire time, and I'm pretty sure I won't be backing out of this. Not for a very, _very _long time, anyway."

There was a long pause, a tinny voice ringing out above to inform them that another flight had landed. He waited with baited breath, finally letting it out in one long drag when a teary eyed Kurt nodded and pulled Blaine up into a hug.

"Normally I would be scrambling to get that ring on my finger, but I just want to go home and sleep." Kurt mumbled into Blaine's jacket, causing the older man to chuckle lightly and grin (because _his_ home was _their_ home again, and if that wasn't one of the best things he's heard that day then the past few months have just been one big lie.)

They pulled away when other passengers began to make their way towards the exit, Blaine reaching down with his left hand to pick up the suitcase and grabbing Kurt's hand with his right, sighing softly at the familiarity of their fingers slotting and interlocking with each other as they made their way towards the exit.

"So, how was your trip?" Blaine asked conversationally, lightly swinging their intertwined hands between them.

Kurt nodded, a smile appearing on his face. "It was good. Tiring," he turned to look at Blaine, smile growing wider as he noticed the wistful appearance on his boyfriend's face, "but good."

Blaine nodded in return, glancing to look at Kurt's suitcase. "And you only brought back one suitcase? I'm shocked!"

The other man shrugged his shoulders, looking at the floor before returning his gaze to Blaine's hazel eyes. "I requested that all the items I bought while over there get sent over to where I live."

Rolling his eyes, Blaine bumped his shoulder against Kurt's playfully. "Only you would request stuff getting sent out to you instead of purchasing a few extra suitcases and bringing them home yourself."

"Well, you know… there's doing it _that_ way." He began, squeezing Blaine's hand lightly as his voice took on a teasing tone. "And then there's also watching other men do it for me." He looked back at the other man, his face blank and voice deadpanning. "You know, good looking, muscular men lifting heavy boxes, sweating in the summer sun and doing everything at my will…"

A grin made its way onto Blaine's face, the two of them cracking up at the imagery Kurt had painted for them and huddling closer together when they exited the airport and were met with a summer night's breeze gently lulling around them. The conversation between them was short and to the point (yes, he was thinking about leaving his current job and yes, the gift Blaine had purchased for him on Valentine's Day was still around, and of course his number was the first one Kurt had remembered when he bought his new phone, thank you very much) so Blaine took this opportunity to tell Kurt that he loved him, Kurt telling Blaine that he loved him, too, and even though he already knew that he couldn't help but think that everything was finally looking up.

Because Blaine's learnt that although liking something is satisfying, loving something is a hundred times better.

(And he can't help but laugh and tell Kurt how much he fucking_ adores_ him when the guys delivering his boxes are quite the opposite to what he was imagining.)

* * *

**Next:** _Harry Freakin' Potter - A Very Potter Sequel._


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